Someday
by Gilraen Estel
Summary: Complete. Young woman is transported back to 1765 Port Royal, where she encounters Commodore Norrington.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean or any of its characters, places, etc. I do own Fiona, Henry Amherst, her dad. I don't own the lyrics to any of the songs used or any of the poems used – they're the artist's work (should be obvious).  
  
I am colorblind Coffee black and egg white Pull me out from inside I am ready I am ready I am ready I am  
  
I sat on the bench at the train station platform, waiting for the train to come take me to Charlottesville, then to Virginia Beach by bus. A large black suitcase, covered with stickers from different countries, cities, peace signs, '60's designs and phrases, and book titles, sat next to me while a backpack hung from my shoulders. My guitar sat propped up against the back of the bench. My breath condensed in the cold air, and even my mittened hands were numb. My cheeks tingled, and I shifted, trying to get warmer but to no avail. I had been abandoned, plain and simple. Thrown out with a bruised, cut face, a fistful of money, a suitcase and backpack, a pet ferret, and abandoned. You could safely say I was the relic of a long-lost love that had died shortly after being born and resulted in me. Oh, not to say that my parents didn't still live together. Well, I take it back, they didn't, hadn't since I was 8. But that didn't prevent them from violent, screaming arguments that raged from across the street or across the room, and someone usually got hurt. That someone was 99.9 times out of 100 me. The arguments were hard to ignore – always loud, always there. Why they still saw each other was beyond me. But it always hurt, mentally, physically and verbally. After cursing each other out they'd come after me, cursing me and my sorry existence and excuse of a life. That was usually my mother's job. My father would beat me, using his big hands to inflict bruises on my face, arms, legs, and a belt for my backside. I had stopped crying years before, having learned that the tears only made it worse. The only thing that was strange was that they were never drunk when the argued. When they were drunk, they avoided each other like the plague. I learned to keep my mouth shut either way, and stay out of the house as often as I could.  
  
Taffy stuck, tongue tied Stuttered shook and uptight Pull me out from inside I am ready I am ready I am ready I am...fine  
  
So one day I finally pitched in my can of beans and got thrown out for being an impudent bitch who talked too much and caused too much trouble. They had even packed for me, providing enough food for at least a few days on the road, and I remember my father slapping two sweaty $50 bills in my hand and shoving me down the steps. I tripped, landing face down on the icy cement. The air in my lungs was gone, my face numb with cold and pain, and it was a struggle to get back up as the door slammed behind me and the argument continued inside. The verbal attacks were usually about what a screw-up mistake I had been, that I was a waste of time and money, that the only good I was worth was for chores, and I didn't even do those well. My mother would think up things to say, blaming me for the drug addictions, the boyfriends who turned sour on her. They weren't true, but I didn't act ignorant. I just kept going.  
  
I am covered in skin No one gets to come in Pull me out from inside I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding I am  
  
I was going to the only place where I knew I would be accepted, and where my parents would never come unless their own lives depended on it – Virginia Beach, the Naval Base, where my uncle was currently the commanding officer of his flying squadron. He was the only real family I had, since he wasn't married and didn't have any kids. I went there whenever I could. It seemed like a nice enough idea at the time, and the tickets were cheap. Admittedly, the ticket master, a woman in a crisp uniform, had given my battered face odd looks as she handed over the necessary tickets, but I had tried to ignore her stares and those of the few other people on the platform who didn't think I noticed them. Things were going to change, had to change, had already changed.  
  
Colorblind Coffee black and egg white Pull me out from inside  
  
"Hey, you goin' to Virginia Beach?" a man asked. I jerked out of my blank stare, glancing up at a ragged face of a construction worker.  
"Yeah, why?"  
"Train's boarding." He motioned to the big locomotive standing on the tracks, smoke whistling from it's wheels.  
"Thanks." He shrugged, going back to the paint bucket and brush next to the window. Rising, I boarded, not ever wanting to look back.  
  
I am ready I am ready I am ready I am...fine I am...fine I am fine  
  
The train pulled put, chugging and straining to gain speed. The car was empty besides the girl sitting in a window seat on the left side, staring out at the rocky forest-covered hill across the tracks from the platform. She didn't mind, though – better to be alone than being questioned.  
  
- Song lyrics - "I am Colorblind," by Counting Crows 


	2. An Open Grave into a New World

Chapter 2  
  
Ring around the Rosy Pocket full of posies Ashes to ashes We all fall down  
  
Sleep. Something that hadn't been present in my life for a few months. The second after sitting down in the plush seat in the train car, I nodded off. I awoke to screaming brakes, feeling myself being thrown against the seat in front of me as the train attempted to stop. Pain wracked though my already bruised face. Shakily standing up as the train swayed, I looked around the empty car. What is going on? I thought. Forcing open one of the windows, I looked out the window, the track curving around a hill, then straightening. I saw a bridge in the distance, a bridge that only extended a quarter of the way across a ravine.  
"Oh G-d," I breathed, "no, not now." Grabbing my things, I ran towards the exit at the front of the car. The door was locked. Swearing, I stepped back, and savagely kicked at the door, trying to bang it open. It didn't budge. I flew to the back, where the door mercifully opened. I jumped off the train onto the gravel track, running back in the direction we had come. I heard a crash as the bridge collapsed beneath the train, which toppled over. Seconds later, a giant explosion went off, smoke and flames pluming up as the other cars exploded. Pieces of metal ricocheted through the air. I took a chance and looked back. Tripping, I reeled forward, felt something hit the back of my head, and the ground opened up like a grave before....  
  
Gravedigger When you dig my grave Could you make it shallow So that I can feel the rain Oh Gravedigger  
  
Liquor. Some kind of liquor. And a cold cloth.  
"Mom?" I croaked a whisper, scarcely able to believe that she would be doing this. And yet she was the first person I thought of.  
"Hush, you're all right. Your mother isn't here," came a young, female voice, very English.  
"Where am I?" I asked with a great deal of effort.  
"Port Royal, at the house of the Governor." My brow furrowed as I tried to make sense of her words. Port Royal? A governor's house?  
"Is she awake?" came another, male English voice, from a distance.  
"Yes, she has regained her senses. Get my father and Doctor Reginald." I struggled to open my eyes, and the blurry figure of a man in a blue coat of some sort was going through a door. I squeezed my eyes shut, my head splintering in pain. Risking opening them again, my eyes fluttered open, and things were clearer. The room was gigantic, as was the comfortable bed, at least a queen-size. It was a four-poster bed, with a drape-like covering. The room was very 18th century in design. As the woman bent over me, my suspicions were confirmed. She wore an upper class gown, complete with corset, and her hair was done up prettily. She was very young, her hair caramel colored, the dress an off-white with a tiny flower pattern.  
A smile greeted my stare.  
"Good morning," she said. "How are you feeling?"  
Very forward, isn't she?  
"Everything hurts, but especially my head," I croaked out. The metallic taste of blood went down as I swallowed. I didn't feel much like talking. There were two paintings of a nobleman and woman, a fireplace, a bureau, a closet, and a chair and table. Heavy drapes hung from the windows to the left, and a screen was set up to the right of the bed. A side-table sat next to the bed, with an elegant lamp and a glass of water. The other table was being used for a pitcher of water, while a basin of water and medicines sat on the bureau's top. Several rolls of bandages were visible. My eyes slid down to what I could see of my body, which only consisted of my arms at this point, and I inwardly sighed as I saw the bandages on my hands and wrists.  
"How many bandages do I have on, right now?" I asked.  
"Too many, for a young woman your age," said a strict voice that was at the same time gentle. Three men came into the room, the one who had spoken in the lead. He carried a doctor's bag, and wore a gentleman's black suit and breeches that were definitely 18th century. He wore spectacles and a white wig, and of course a tri-cornered hat. I was horrified to be so vulnerable and have three men in the same room with me, and I gulped painfully, watching as the man took the place of the young woman.  
"I am Dr. Reginald," said the man. "And what is your name?"  
"It used to be Moira Fitzgerald Amherst, but I had it legally changed to Fiona Siohban Fitzgerald." He smiled, trying to appear kind. Why I told him I had had my name changed I didn't know. The two other men in the room were distinguishable to me now – one was an officer in a blue uniform with white cuffs and collar, with a few gold trimmings. He wore a British officer's white wig, and a tri-cornered hat. The other man was significantly older, with a gray wig that one would have seen in the time of Louis XIV. He wore a nobleman's suit, a silvery waistcoat under a deep green coat with breeches of the same green. Both had stockings and the buckled shoes.  
"Well, you seem to be doing better than you were when you first arrived," said Dr. Reginald. "You'll have to turn over. Gentlemen, I'll have to ask you to leave." They nodded, leaving.  
"Who were they?" I questioned.  
"Governor Swann, father of Miss Elizabeth Swann, the young lady who's been watching over you, and Captain Norrington," he replied, slightly taken aback.  
"It's my fault she doesn't know, doctor. She only just woke up."  
"Ah, I see. Well, lets get you onto your stomach." After much pain, I was on my stomach, and the doctor had shortly inspected what I could only assume were the welts on my back. Turning back over wasn't so painful, but after the ordeal was over I was exhausted and confused. The other two gentlemen came in and closer to the bed as the doctor packed up his bag. He said something to them and Miss Swann, then smiled at me and left. Elizabeth returned to my side.  
"How long have I been here?" I asked her.  
"Two days, and this third day you woke up," she replied kindly. "But you need rest. You've been hurt badly."  
"I know that – I remember it happening."  
"Who did it to you?" asked Governor Swann hurriedly, stepping forward. He was the older man, which made sense.  
I hesitated before replying. "You wouldn't believe me, sir, if I told you the truth because it would be very foreign to you," I said.  
"Who did it to you?" he repeated.  
"My parents," I assented. All three were taken aback, and the Governor looked horrified. Despite my efforts to stop them, a few tears trickled down my face.  
"Father, I think we ought to let her rest. Don't you think she's been through enough today already?" pleaded Elizabeth. Her father thought for a moment, eyeing me, then nodded.  
"Very well, but I'm putting you in charge of caring for her."  
"Yes, father," she said. The men left, and Elizabeth produced a cup of tea from somewhere. "Here, drink this," she instructed. "I smuggled it in while father wasn't looking. It'll help you sleep." I was skeptical, but drank the cup of tea, which tasted of peppermint, gin, and something else. It tasted awful, but soon after drinking it, I felt myself slipping off to sleep, where nightmares fitfully played with my mind.  
  
Disclaimer: lyrics from "Gravedigger" by Dave Matthews 


	3. Recovery and Invitations

Chapter 3 The room was empty, but the window shutters had been closed and a fire was leaping in the hearth. The lamp on the bed-side table flickered, casting a faint light on the bed. Everything was very quiet, very still.  
I took a deep breath, smelling the smell only an 18th century house could have, and it was quite pleasing. I pushed myself up slightly, wincing at the soreness in my arms, and glanced around the room. My backpack and suit case sat near the bureau, the guitar and case on the bureau's other side.  
How long have a slept? I thought. As if on cue, a clock somewhere in the house began to chime, signaling 6 o'clock. I managed to drag my aching body out of bed and go to the window, I opened one of the shutters and beheld a sunset so beautiful it broke my heart, almost. The view from the window looked down onto an 18th century harbor, where there were two ships on the dock, and one much bigger one in the bay, sails tied up. The sun was slipping below the horizon, shining orange and gold onto the sea and tinting the clouds the same color. Red peeked at the edges, contrasting with the green and grey cliffs surrounding the harbor. As the sun continued to go down, the reds, oranges and gold's became soft pinks and purples, mingling with each other. I had not seen a sunset like this in a long time.  
Closing the window, I sat on the edge of the bed, clasping my hands together. I was hungry, but doubted that anyone knew I was awake. Trying to pass time, I got dressed in one of my medieval-looking dresses I had gotten at a Renaissance Festival and got out my guitar. After tuning it, I began to pluck out "The Sound of Silence." The words went through my head, making my fingers play. Only when the door handle clicked did I look up in surprise. Elizabeth Swann stood, fascinated and staring, up against the door, an inquisitive smile on her face.  
"What instrument is that?" she asked, approaching me.  
"A guitar. You like it?"  
"Very much, yes. I've never seen anything like it before." She sat down beside me. "What are you doing up?" she asked suddenly.  
"I felt like getting up," I shrugged. "It's not like my getting beaten up hasn't happened before. I'm usually up and about in a couple of day. But I'm in a different time period, that's the thing."  
"You mean, you're not from here?"  
"No, I'm not from Port Royal, as you can obviously tell from my accent, and I live in the year 2004, not whatever year this is."  
"1765."  
"You're shitting me, right?"  
"No, it's 1765." I silently swore, biting my tongue to keep the long list of expletives from bursting out. "How do I know you're from 2004?"  
"Take a look at the suitcase and some of the stickers on it. See some of the dates on those?"  
"1967, 1963, 1972, 1984." She looked over at me. "Have you been to all these places?"  
"Hell no. The only place I've ever been outside of my own city is Virginia Beach, Virginia."  
"Oh, you're from the colonies!" she exclaimed excitedly. She was starting to get on my nerves.  
"Yes, I'm from the colonies, but they aren't called colonies any more. They're the United States of America, all 50 of them."  
"No, there are only 13 colonies, still under English power, I'm certain of it." Warning, Fiona, you're stepping on dangerous ground, I thought. I didn't reply, just smiled. Boy did England have a surprise on its horizon.  
"When was the last time you were in England?" I asked.  
"Nine and a half years ago," she said.  
"Well, there you go. A lot can happen in one year, let alone nine." I paused. "How old are you?" She looked mortified for a moment that I had even thought of asking such a question, then replied:  
"Nearly 18." I couldn't help a wry smile – I was older than her by at least a year, and she still acted like she was 15. "Now, how old are you?"  
"18 and a half."  
"Elizabeth! Where are you?" came a voice down the hallway. She went to the door, opening it.  
"Here, father, visiting with our patient." The Governor came in, and for his presence I was greatly relieved because I probably would have wrung Elizabeth's neck had I been alone with her any longer.  
"Governor Swann," I said, sticking out my hand, "thank you very much for your hospitality." I shook his hand with a soft smile. "I'm not sure I deserve it. Considering I do not even know where I am, except a place called Port Royal, I am indebted to you for your kindness as I am a stranger." I had decided to put myself in an 18th century frame of mind and talk around him, as it would most likely suit my situation better.  
"It was at my daughter's request that you were brought. As a father who loves his daughter greatly I could not resist her pleas. It still bewilders me as to why she insisted upon caring for you, but I have almost given up understanding her." Elizabeth grinned mischievously.  
"Sir, where did you find me?"  
"On the beach, with your belongings. We assumed you had been on a ship that had been attacked."  
"No, I was not on a ship. I'm from the year 2004, far into the future."  
"What? How is that possible?" he questioned, astounded.  
"I do not know, sir, just that I went unconscious in 2004 and woke up here. I do not know how I came to be here."  
"She is from the colonies, father, Virginia to be more specific," intruded Elizabeth.  
"Virginia?"  
"Yes, sir. I was on my way to Virginia Beach, to see my uncle."  
"And your parents? You said they beat you. Did they play any part in your going to Virginia Beach?"  
"They threw me out. I was forced to leave, I had no other choice. My uncle is the only other relative I have, the only one who accepts me."  
Governor Swann was outwardly affronted, stunned that any parents would cast their children out into the streets. But I wasn't surprised – he barely knew the story of what had passed between my parents and me. If he asked, I would tell, but if he didn't, I would keep my life secrets my own.  
"Well, you shall stay here until you are healed and able to discover a way back to your home and time," Governor Swann decided. "Please, do not hesitate to request anything you might need."  
"Thank you, Governor, but I do not want to trespass any more on you. You have given enough in allowing me to stay here." And I do not think I want to go home, I added to myself. He smiled, inclining his head.  
"Dinner shall be served in an hour. Elizabeth...." He raised his eyebrows, indicating something to her. He then left, leaving me alone with the annoying young woman. I sighed, leaning on the guitar, feeling queasy.  
  
"If you will excuse me, Miss Swann, I need some rest. Will you make sure I'm up in time to get ready for dinner?"  
"Of course." She smiled, taking her leave.  
I curled up on the bed, wondering what the hell was happening to me.  
  
Here is my song for the asking  
Ask me and I will play  
So sweetly, I'll make you smile  
  
This is my tune for the taking  
Take it, don't turn away  
I've been waiting all my life  
  
Disclaimer: Lyrics by Simon and Garfunkel, "Song for the Asking" 


	4. Dinner, A Song, and Ships

Chapter 5  
  
Thinking it over, I've been sad  
Thinking it over, I'd be more than glad To change my ways for the asking  
  
Ask me and I will play All the love that I hold inside  
  
The dress felt awkward, the corset tight and the dress silky. Elizabeth had lent me one of hers, a green one, shiny, with a little bit of lace around the collar. The sleeves extended to just above the elbow, another bit of lace around the cuffs. I had been dressed in undergarments, also lent by Elizabeth, and her servant did up my hair, putting hints of perfume over me. She knew enough about make-up to cover the still-healing scars and what remained of the bruises, which were now just little patches of black and blue. I felt extremely dressed up, stiff and sore in the dress and corset.  
Following Elizabeth downstairs, I found myself in a greeting area with a stone floor. A small, circular table adorned with flowers sat in the middle of the room. Two rooms branched off from the waiting area, and a hallway continued to the other side of the house, the kitchens, etc. One room was the parlor, the other the dining room.  
Governor Swann stood talking with Captain Norrington in front of the table in the greeting area. Both looked up as Elizabeth pulled me downstairs. Even though I had worn things similar to corsets before for my acting class, none of them had been as uncomfortable as this – it felt like my chest was about to cave in on me.  
Governor Swann's face softened into a devoting smile as he saw Elizabeth. Captain Norrington glanced at her, his eyes moving to me. They stopped on me, widening slightly, and I could have sworn he gasped inaudibly, but in a flash Norrington resumed his state of stiff impassivity. The Governor offered his daughter his arm, and I was left with Norrington. I was surprised I hadn't fallen over yet from the sheer weight of the dress.  
A servant pulled out a chair, and I gently sat down, surprised at how much the dress and seat cushioned my sore backside. The corset forced me to sit up straight, as well as making me hold me head a little more fixedly up. Swann sat at the head of the table, I on his left, Elizabeth on his left and Norrington beside Elizabeth. It was a nice dining room, grander than any I'd been in, with a polished mahogany table, wood floors, a small, modest chandelier, excellent silver and china, a side board, and some sort of wooden hanging with two swords going through. Other items littered the room, denoting the man's wealth and status, but I was quickly diverted by the bowl of soup placed in front of me. My mouth watered. I had never smelled anything so good in my life. Wine was poured into glasses, and water into a second, smaller glass. There was a quick blessing, and then the eating began. Nothing had ever tasted so good. Although I tried to remember my manners, it was very difficult to keep from picking up the bowl and slurping it all down at once.  
"Miss Fitzgerald, I trust you are feeling better?" asked Swann.  
"Yes, sir, thank you. I must confess, though, that I feel out-of- place here. I'm not used to all of this," I replied, motioning with my hand. "The soup is excellent, though, best I've ever had."  
"You mentioned you were going to your uncle's home, in Virginia Beach," he commented. "Why there?"  
"Well, he's the only family I've got, and he is better off and kinder than my parents, so I decided I may as well go where I'm accepted. I have friends in Virginia Beach. It was like a home until my parents forbid me to go there anymore."  
"Why did they forbid you to go?" Norrington asked, leaning back as a servant took away the empty bowl.  
"My father and my uncle hate each other like you wouldn't believe, and when my father found out how much time I was spending with my uncle, he basically threatened to kill me should I ever attempt to go there again."  
"So what were you thinking when you left home, in hopes of reaching Virginia Beach without him knowing?"  
"I wasn't heading directly for Virginia Beach. I was going to take a train to Charlottesville, then take a bus across Virginia to the coast, and hitch-hike the rest of the way. He can't trace me."  
"What is this train and bus you speak of?" Swann asked.  
"Modes of transportation. A bus is like a big carriage for a lot of people, and a train is like lots of buses, or carriages if you will, attached together which are attached to an engine that pulls them." Norrington glanced warily at Swann, and was probably thinking how crazy I sounded.  
"What is Virginia Beach like?" Elizabeth asked, breaking the momentary awkward silence.  
"It's a naval port. My uncle is in the navy, and is stationed there."  
"Really?" said Norrington, suddenly interested. Another course was being set on the table, what looked like chicken and vegetables gourmet style.  
"Yes. When I was young I would always go down to the docks and the base, hang out with my uncle and his officers and fellow crew members. It was always a lot of fun because they would let me poke around the ships, and generally go anywhere I liked as long as I didn't touch anything I wasn't supposed to. I was his command's mascot." I grinned, remembering my uncle's sharp, stern, but kind reprimands and instructions before letting me go exploring. "I must say that I learned more about the ocean and the navy there than I ever did in school."  
"Are naval ports very different in 2004?" Norrington asked.  
"Compared to the ones now? I don't know. I've never been to an 18th century port. I've only seen pictures of them, so I couldn't really make a fair judgment."  
"Perhaps you might come down to the docks one day, I would be happy to show you around or have one of my men give you a tour."  
"I would like that very, very much, Captain. Thank you for the offer. Any special time or day?"  
"In two days time, about noon, shall we say? The guard changes then. That shall leave time for you to see the rest of Port Royal."  
"Agreed." I gave a happy smile, managing to quell my excitement to that. Swann was eyeing Norrington curiously, questioningly, but Elizabeth looked relieved. The second course was eaten, equally as delicious as the first, and then we moved across the hall into the parlor for coffee or liquor. As we moved into the room, which was painted a deep green with giant drapes, Elizabeth said,  
"Father, that instrument you saw earlier is a guitar. It's Fiona's. She was playing it when I visited her. It's quite pretty."  
"You play music, then?" Swann said, smiling as he sat in the chair closest to the fire, which had been built up in the large fireplace.  
"Yes, classical and other kinds. Mozart is my favorite composer."  
"Mozart?" Swann said, obviously having no clue who I was talking about. "Who is he?" "Oh, just someone who is quite famous in Europe right now. He's only just come out," I said as I mentally kicked myself as I remembered the year. He wasn't dead yet. Heck, he was only 9 now. "But I enjoy Haydn's music as well, as well as Bach. I adore his cello suites." "Oh, yes, excellent composers, both. Bach's music has a passion that you seldom hear anywhere else. Have you heard...." "Father, perhaps we might inquire after the music of Fiona's home," interrupted Elizabeth softly, putting her hand in his. "She seems to have an understanding of classical, but I heard her singing something I was unfamiliar with." She looked to me. "Would you mind playing us something?" she requested excitedly. "If your father and Captain Norrington do not mind, then I shall, if you like." "I am interested to see how this instrument of yours works," Swann confessed. "When I saw it I did wonder what it was." "I'll go get it, then," I said, beginning to rise. "No, I'll have one of the servants get it." He rang a bell, and a young girl was sent upstairs. What am I going to sing? What do I know on the guitar? Something happy, uplifting, or they'll think I'm permanently depressed. The girl soon returned with the guitar, by which time I had decided to stick with Simon and Garfunkel or Bob Dylan. "What would you like to hear?" I asked, making sure the guitar was tuned. "Anything you like," Elizabeth said, her eyes bright. "Do you know any pirate songs?" "Elizabeth!" reprimanded Swann, and Norrington jerked his eyes to her, appearing surprised and shocked. Ok, avoid anything that could be linked with pirates, I thought. "All right, this song is called 'The 59th Street Bridge Song,' or 'Feelin' Groovy,' by Simon and Garfunkel," I said. I began to pluck away, gathering enough energy to sing in the suffocating dress.  
  
Slow down, you move too fast.  
  
You got to make the mornin' last.  
  
Just kickin' down the cobblestones,  
  
Lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy.  
  
Ba da da da da da da, feelin' groovy.  
  
Hello, lamppost, whatcha knowin'?  
  
I come to watch your flowers growin'.  
  
Ain'tcha got no rhymes for me?  
  
Doo it doo doo, feelin' groovy.  
  
Ba da da da da da da, feelin' groovy.  
  
I got no deeds to do, no promises to keep.  
  
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep  
  
Let the morningtime drop all it's petals on me  
  
Life, I love you, all is groovy!  
  
Ba da da da da da da ba bap a dee...  
  
I found myself smiling by the end of the song, happy. "What a pleasant song!" exclaimed Swann, as the light clapping ended. "I've never heard anything quite like it, but it is very catching. What do you think, Captain?" "I agree, sir, a very good song. And very well performed," he added. "Thank you," I nodded. "Sing another," Elizabeth begged. "I couldn't," I protested gently. "Most of the songs I know are not all that happy. There are a few that are, and a few classical songs, but I'm not all that good." I wasn't – despite what people said, it had been beaten into me that I wasn't good at anything. "I quite enjoyed it," Norrington complimented. I couldn't tell if he was truthful or being polite. "Perhaps tomorrow," Elizabeth said. "Captain Norrington," said a man servant, coming in with a bow, "this was just delivered for you." He produced a white envelope, unsealed. He took it, pulling out the note. There were a few moments of silence. "Governor, please excuse me, I must return to the fort. Something has come up, and the admiral has ordered my services," said Norrington. He rose, and we rose as well. Norrington kissed the backs of Elizabeth's and my hands with a bow, and left, going out into the dark night. To my surprise, I let out a giant yawn moments after he left the room. "So sorry, how rude of me," I said after the yawn had ended. "I am retiring for the evening," said Swann, bowing slightly. "Goodnight, to you both." "Goodnight, father," said Elizabeth. "Goodnight, Governor." I felt another yawn rising, this time managing to stifle it. "Will you teach me to play, and sing like you do?" Elizabeth asked me as we went upstairs together. "Yeah, sure, why not," I replied. "But you gotta show me around this place first. I have to work if I'm going to stay here, so I can get my own place until I find a way back home." "I don't want you to leave." "Why the hell not?" I snapped, turning to her. "Because I like you," she snapped back. "You're the only friend I've ever had on this damn island besides Will Turner, and I'm not allowed to socialize with him because he's a blacksmith!" "A ha. Well, there it is," I muttered, leaning on the railing and pushing myself up the stairs. "Yes, I'll teach you if you at least make an effort to help me find out what happened to me." "Agreed." That night, I slept soundly, dreaming of 18th century sailors on 21st century ships.  
  
Disclaimer: all lyrics are from Simon and Garnfunkel's songs and are therefore not mine. Thanks to everyone who reviewed...sorry I haven't updated (school....) 


	5. The Docks and Meeting Norrington

Chapter 6  
  
"Miss, miss?" came a young voice. I groggily woke up, turning slightly to look at who was talking. A servant girl was bending over me, eyes expectant. "What?" I croaked. "Miss Swann wishes you down at breakfast, miss," said the girl. "What time is it?" "Half past 8, miss." "All right, tell her I'll be down shortly." The maid curtsied, quietly shutting the door behind her. I buried my head in the soft pillow with a heavy sigh. Finally stirring and getting up, I pulled on an 18th century dress and put on other necessary things as well. Sliding into my soft- soled clogs, I went downstairs, braiding my hair as I went. "Good morning," said Elizabeth as I entered the dining room. "Good morning," I replied. "Where's your dad?" "Oh, he left earlier to go to the fort. We shall probably see him in town." As she said this she was busy inspecting my attire. "Problem with my clothes?" "No, not at all, we just might get some looks on the street." "You're implying that I should change into something more appropriate." "No, no, we'll just say you're from the colonies. That will explain everything." I shrugged. I didn't like America much anyway. Wouldn't hurt to do some bashing while I was here. After an excellent, filling breakfast, we left the mansion (for that is what it was) and strolled into town, where I was acquainted with 18th century port life. I suppose you could say I saw the good, the bad, the ugly, and the pretty sides of things. Elizabeth tended to stray towards the lower class side, but not the dangerous side where most of the brawling taverns were. "I'd like you to meet Will Turner," she said, pulling me down a side street. We came to a blacksmith's shop, where the name Brown was advertised on the sign. Going in, I saw an elderly, pot-bellied man asleep in a chair, and another, young man no older than I pounding away at a piece of metal. He looked up as we entered. "Miss Swann!" he grinned, coming over quickly. The place was tidy enough for a blacksmith's shop, and was exactly what I was expecting. "Will, this is my friend Fiona. Fiona, this is Will." "A pleasure," I said, shaking his hand. "Likewise." After chatting for a few moments, I saw the two young people were completely engrossed with each other. "Listen, Lizzy, I'm going to go have a look around town. Where should I meet you and when?" "How about at the fort at around 12? That is when father is expecting us." "Fine. I'm sure I can find my way there." I quickly left the smelly shop. What I did in the short 2 ½ hours before going to the fort was window shopping and touristy meandering. It wasn't a bad port town, nicely situated, and the people were generally friendly if greeted the right way. I saw a few sailors in town, but didn't begin to see any uniformed men until I got closer to the docks. I reached the end of the town, walked down a wooden path, and crossed a small bridge. As the trees and shrubs cleared midway cross the bridge, the small beach, the docks and giant ships came into view. Smaller merchant boats and fishing dinghies were crammed together closer to the docks, the men haggling with each other, loading and unloading goods while black boys stood beside and watched. A giant navy ship sat anchored a ways of, her sails in, but her mast proudly displaying the Union Jack. Another, smaller frigate navy ship was at the docks, and behind it, rising up on a cliff, was the large fort. There were a few other navy ships anchored nearby. Sailors milled around the area, a few redcoats standing in groups, scattered throughout the docks up to the fort. Officers in blue stood near the docks, directing their men. I saw Norrington speaking to a superior officer near the frigate, three other officers standing nearby. Shouts rang out, hardy and mean or smooth and British. A few small row boats were on the beach. Stepping briskly across the bridge, I stopped a young boy who looked like he knew his way around. "Excuse me, might you tell me how I could get up to the fort? I'm supposed to meet someone there, but am at a loss for how to get there," I requested. He gave me a quick set of directions, and continued on his way. Following the path up to the docks and veering right up some steps, I appeared to be at ease so no one would pay particular attention to me. "Miss Fitzgerald?" came a voice. Turning halfway, I saw Norrington looking up at me from the bottom of steps. "Captain Norrington," I smiled, going down a few steps. "Good morning." "Good morning. I didn't expect to see you out so soon." "I didn't expect to be out so soon, but Miss Swann was quite anxious to leave the house, so I didn't have much choice." A knowing, sardonic smile tugged at his mouth, and he glanced down momentarily. "How do you like Port Royal?" he asked, offering his arm. Taking it, we began to walk down the docks. "Very much, actually. Quite a bit different from Virginia Beach, but I guess a couple hundred years will do that. But yes, I do like it very much here. More than Virginia Beach, believe it or not." "More than Virginia Beach? Interesting. From what I understood as of last night, Virginia Beach seemed to be quite the naval port, much more grand the Port Royal. What has caused this change of opinion?" "May I remind you that I had not actually seen Port Royal up close before my comments last night. Yes, Virginia Beach is a much bigger naval port, but it soon becomes tiresome. Everything starts to look the same, events start to become predictable." "Ah. And you sense that here things are not always predictable." I nodded. "Well, you certainly have a grasp on naval ports, but how is your knowledge of seamanship?" "Is that a fair question, sir? The ships of 2004 are very, very different from those you see here. I could tell you how to run a ship in 2004, but one of these?" I shook my head. "I may have an inkling of what to do, but I must admit my ignorance of 18th century ships and how to sail them. It must be an art to be able to effectively run and sail a ship of that size," I said, nodding to the large ship anchored in the bay. "What is her name?" "The H.M.S. Dauntless, and a fine ship she is, too. She's fairly new, but runs beautifully. She's made almost entirely of oak and redwood. The frigate at the dock is the Interceptor, the fastest ship in the Caribbean. As you can see she's much smaller, but just as able as the Dauntless, which has more firepower. Both have their strong points, but the Dauntless is the flagship." "And you sail in both?" "Yes." "How long have you been in the Navy?" "19 years, since I was 11." "11?" "Yes." "You must have a very distinguished record, then." Again, the half-smile and glance to the ground. In the distance, a clock began to chime 12. "Oh, damn, I'm going to be late." Norrington momentarily looked horrified that I had dared to swear in front of him, but recovered his composure just as speedily. "Late for what?" "I'm supposed to meet Governor Swann and Elizabeth at the fort at noon, and it's noon." "Come, I'll show you a quick way to get there." He led me up another set of stairs, down a street running parallel to the town, then up the side of the fort and around to the main gate. It reminded me a bit of Fort Sumter on the inside, without the black building that had been added after the Civil War. An open parade ground, two levels with stairs at the back leading up the ramparts and a bell-tower looking structure. Over the main gate was an open room like area with another tower, steps leading down to the parade grounds. The room led to another area, but I was too busy looking for the Governor and Elizabeth to figure out what it was. Offices could be seen under the room area. It was quite an extensive fort, with multiple levels and plenty of munitions. "Fiona! Over here!" called Elizabeth, and I saw her waving from the bell- tower structure, her father standing next to her. I smiled wryly, wondering how her father put up with her energy and demands. Norrington and I walked up, greeting them in the English manner, and Norrington excused himself. "So, are you enjoying yourself?" Elizabeth asked. "Yes, thank you, Lizzy, very much," I said, "though Captain Norrington seems very uptight, very proper. And completely absorbed by the navy." Swann gave me an odd look, but Elizabeth blurted out, "Finally, someone who agrees with me! Do you not find him to be tedious at times, the way he talks and acts? He is infuriating the way he talks about pirates! You would think every pirate that sails the ocean is bad!" "Whoa, hold your horses, missy," I gasped, holding up a hand, shocked that she was behaving this way. Swann was stunned, gaping at his daughter. "I'll grant you that he's a bit stiff, and that he needs to loosen up a bit, but the pirate thing – he's just doing his job. I'm just saying that for a naval man he's a bit stuck up." "Elizabeth, how can you talk like that of Captain Norrington, after all he has done for Port Royal? If it were not for his efforts, we could all be worse off than we are, perhaps dead. I am very disappointed in you." Elizabeth did look a bit ashamed of herself, but I could see she didn't like Norrington at all. "So, what are we doing now?" I changed the subject, feeling awkward. "I have arranged for lunch at a very respectable restaurant in town," said Swann. And so we went to lunch, and a very awkward, quiet lunch it was. 


	6. No TourBut a Duel

Chapter 7 The next day  
  
Norrington was nowhere in sight. I had been waiting for 15 minutes for my promised tour, and he hadn't shown up yet. "Miss Fitzgerald?" said someone. A young officer stepped in front of me, smiling. "Yes?" "I'm Leftenant Gillete. Captain Norrington sends his regrets, and hopes that you might come back tomorrow." "Thank you, Leftenant." He bowed slightly, then left, hands behind his back. I was a bit puzzled, but started back the way I had come, towards the Governor's mansion. As I turned a corner, I ran into someone, literally. I teetered back on my heels, managing to grasp a doorway and regain my balance. The other figure stumbled back, then bent forward, and I reached out and caught whoever it was. Steadying ourselves, we backed away from each other. "Sorry," I said, getting ready to move on. "My fault entirely," he said. We passed each other, then it clicked. "Will Turner?" I asked, turning back. He whirled. "You know me?" "I met you the other day, in your shop. Elizabeth Swann introduced us." He gave me a blank stare. "Fiona." "Oh, yes, Miss Fiona, nice to meet you. I'm sorry that I didn't seem particularly gentlemanly yesterday." "It's all right, I understand. You two are quite smitten with each other, it's in your eyes." He blushed crimson. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. But she likes you, man. She told me about how you two met." "She did?" "Yeah. It's good that she has a friend. I don't know how long I'm going to be here, but apparently she thinks she's found another friend." "Her father doesn't approve, being the Governor and all. I think he has high hopes for her in terms of marrying well. I have a feeling he's pushing her in the direction of Norrington." "Really? That's news. Last time I heard she hated his guts. But don't tell anyone, especially Norrington, that I said that." We grinned. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?" "No, I was just returning to the shop." He paused. "Would you like to come, have a tour of the place?" "I don't have anything else to do." He nodded, and we sauntered off down to his shop. "Elizabeth told me you sing, but not the English songs. What did she mean?" "She means that I sing songs from where I'm from, the colonies. I'm from the future, don't you know?" "No you're not." "Yeah, I am. I'm very serious!" "Prove you're from the future." "Check out my clothes – who here wear's this kind of clothing?" "You've got a point." We came into the courtyard where the blacksmith's shop was. "Here we are." He pushed open the door, allowing me to go in first. There was a musty smell now, not as bad as it had been. The man was still asleep in his chair. A donkey was hooked up to some kind of contraption to the right of the door, with lots of swords hanging from what appeared to be a rotating wheel. "So what exactly do you manufacture?" I asked, squinting in the dark light. "I make swords," he replied, holding up a recently finished one. "Cool. May I?" He handed me the hilt, and I grasped it, remembering my fencing lessons from my uncle and his officers during their spare time. Swiping the sword through the year, hearing the hum of strong steel, I felt a zing of excitement and adrenaline go through me. "Do you know how to use the sword?" Turner asked. "Sure do. My uncle and his officers taught me all types of fighting styles." Turner grabbed another sword. "En guarde," he said. "Being inappropriate again, are we, Turner?" I grinned. "I could use the practice." He held up the sword, and I positioned myself. We saluted, stood en guarde, and began. Steel clanged, and we leapt over chairs, benches, around the wheel. I caught him on the wagon platform and wheels propped up against the stairs. "You're good," he gasped. "You're not too bad yourself," I threw back. "But you could be better." He lunged across the platform, and I parried off his attack. Making a few swift moves, I nicked his hand, the sword flew up, and I caught it. "Again?" I asked, offering him the hilt. Grabbing it with a scowl, he jerked it away and we went at it again, with more ferocity than the last time. I beat him back to the steps, watching his movements. He tripped up the steps, and I found a hole. Going in, I caught his free hand and, jerking him down, caught his blade under my foot while touching my blade to his chin. He immediately let his sword go, raising his hands in surrender. He rose, breathing heavily. I felt tiny beads of sweat trickling down my neck, and moped my forehead with my sleeve. I lifted the sword with my foot, catching it and handing both swords to Turner. "Well, that was certainly a fun addition to my day," I said. "Thanks for the lesson." "My pleasure," he said. "I suppose I should be getting back. Any message you'd like me to bring Elizabeth?" "Tell her...tell her that I can't wait to see her again." I grinned. "I'll see what I can do to make that happen." I bowed slightly, and left with a mission in mind to help unite the two young lovers. 


	7. A New Job and A Disagreement

Chapter 8  
  
Come, said my soul, Such verses for my body let us write, (for we are one,) That should I after death invisibly return, Or, long, long hence in other spheres, There to some group of mates the chants resuming, (Tallying Earth's soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,) Ever with please'd smile I may keep on, Ever and ever yet the verses owning – us, first, I here and now Signing for soul and body, set to them my name  
  
"You're hired," said the woman, her ruddy round face beaming at me. She was a seamstress and nanny. She needed the extra help, she said, on both jobs. Apparently my coming was a blessing for I was perfect for the job. "You'll start tomorrow. And wear whatever ya like, darlin'." Her name was Sarah Archon, a middle class woman who was paid well by her employers. The fact that she wasn't bothered by my clothing habits was a comfort. I had shown her some of my clothing, since I made many of my clothes at home. Today I wore an 18th century man's shirt, with long sleeves, and a pair of jeans with my boots, hair drawn up into a French braid. "Thank you, ma'am," I said. Stepping out onto the street, I began to search for lodgings. It was the sixth day of my stay in Port Royal, counting the two I had been unconscious in bed, and I now that I had a mission, I planned on staying awhile longer. Naturally I didn't want to impede on the Governor's hospitality any longer, so I had found a job and now wanted to reserve lodgings until I had enough money to pay the rent. I found a small apartment in the better side of town, and the renter was willing to wait a few days since business was slow. Heading back towards the Governor's mansion, I wondered if I ever would find a way back to Virginia should I look for it and choose to return. This brought questions as to how I had gotten to Port Royal in the first place. For the first time since Swann and Elizabeth had questioned me about my parents, I thought about them and what they might be doing right now.  
Someone touched my shoulder and I jerked around in surprise. I hadn't been paying attention, too intent on my own thoughts. Norrington stood behind me, the same impassivity still plastered on his face.  
"Captain," I said with a mild air of surprise. "What....?"  
"I wanted to apologize for not allowing you to see the docks yesterday. Bad bit of organization on my part, I apologize."  
"Quite all right, I assure you. I didn't mind. I had gotten a preview the day before, so I got a pretty good idea from that." There was an awkward silence, and I folded my arms across my chest. He eyed me, obviously not pleased with my sense of clothing.  
"I...." I started, pointing up towards the mansion.  
"Yes, as was I," Norrington nodded. I half-smiled, nervous, and continued walking.  
"Do you like her?" I asked suddenly.  
"Who? Elizabeth?" I nodded, deciding not to be sarcastic with him. "Yes, I do." He cleared his throat, shoes clicking on the cobblestones. "Do you?"  
"Ask me in a couple of days and I might have an answer."  
"You've been here for six already. Do you not know if you like her?"  
"I am not so quick to judge as some, Captain," I snapped. "I do have first impressions, but I have to give people some time before making any sort of judgment on them. You, on the other hand, seem to know exactly what you think of people before evening meeting them!" He took in a sharp breath. I mentally kicked myself for a second time. "Sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I barely know you and I'm contradicting myself." What was I trying to say?  
"I assume you are referring to pirates." I didn't reply to his statement, which was stiff. "Pirates, when you get down to it, are all the same. They may seem to be good, but they are rotten, dirty, foul men. It is my job as one of the top officers in the port to protect the inhabitants and deal justly with all pirates."  
"There are evil people in the world besides pirates, Captain," I said softly, digging my nails into the strap of the bag I was carrying. I quickened my pace, moving beyond him. I rushed through the mansion's front doors, dashed upstairs, and slammed the bedroom door behind me. Throwing myself on the bed, I tried to quell my anger. Why did he have to be so damn patriotically stiff?  
"Fiona?" Elizabeth came in quietly, shutting the door behind her. "What's wrong?"  
"Nothing."  
"I saw you come in with Norrington. Neither of you looked pleased."  
"He holds too many pre-conceived judgments." I sighed heavily. "I understand that he is only trying to do his job, but if he were to hold the same attitude about pirates when considering others he might catch more criminals. Pirates aren't the only ones who commit crimes." She touched my head.  
"Your parents." I stuffed my face into the pillow with a nod. "You know, it is the law here that pirates are hung, no matter what they've done right."  
"I got a job, and have lodgings lined up for when I raise enough rent money," I told her. "I won't be staying here much longer." There was a small gasp, then footsteps going across the floor and one door slamming after another.  
"What on earth?" came Swann's voice. "Elizabeth, what's going on?" I stepped out into the hallway that looked down upon the front room. Leaning on the railing, I said,  
"I wouldn't bother her, sir." Norrington and Swann looked up at me. "And I will be moving out shortly. I have a job and shortly will have lodgings." I gave a tight-lipped, angry smile before shutting the door behind me.  
  
All that I did was walk over  
  
Start off by shaking your hands  
  
That's how it went  
  
I had a smile on my face  
  
and I sat up straight  
  
Disclaimer: poem by Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass, lyrics by Avril Lavigne, "Unwanted" 


	8. Cellos and Research

And I wanna believe you,  
  
When you tell me that it'll be ok,  
  
Ya I try to believe you,  
  
But I don't  
  
When you say that it's gonna be,  
  
It always turns out to be a different way,  
  
I try to believe you,  
  
Not today, today, today, today, today...  
  
The cello was beautiful. Aged perfectly, it had a shiny gloss on it, and from a professional or novice point of view, it was made with excellent craftsmanship.  
I ran my hand down its side, inspecting it. I wanted it so badly, wanted to hear its sound again. Money was not an issue – Mrs. Archon had been paying me amply for my services. It was where I was to put it. My quarters were exactly spacious, but cramped even with the small amount of stuff I had.  
"Would you like to buy it or not?" said the man, impatiently staring at me through his spectacles.  
"Yes, I'll take it," I murmured. "I'll take some music as well." He nodded, taking the cello. "I assume a bow and cleaning equipment is included in the price?"  
"Bow is, cleaning equipment is extra."  
"I'll take some cleaning equipment, rosin, clothes, etc." I went over to the music shelves and selected a few cello suites, many by Bach. I managed to get my hands Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major, one of my favorites. I vaguely heard him say a price, and I laid out the money on the counter. He smiled, handing over the cello in its case with its bow, and the cleaning equipment and music in a paper bag.  
I moved through the crowds back to my room at the Hunsford Inn, which was more of a boarding house than an inn. It had been three weeks since I had last met and actually talked with Swann, Norrington, or Elizabeth, but I had left her a note saying that Turner needed to see her. I had been covertly bringing them together – covertly in terms of Elizabeth's knowledge of my role. Turner had a vague idea of what I was doing, and he was always thankful to me. Swann was polite when he saw me, Norrington stony-faced and silent. We didn't exactly agree on politics, but, then again, I wasn't exactly up-to-date on the navy's policies, especially the English navy.  
"Goodness me, Miss Fitzgerald, what 'ave ye got there?" cried the landlady, Mrs. Mason.  
"It's a cello, Mrs. Mason, an instrument."  
"Ah, ya mean we are ta 'ave music 'ere now?"  
"Yes, ma'am." I trudged up the two flights of stairs to the apartment, which consisted of a bedroom and a small study-like room. Propping the cello up against the wall and setting the bag on the bed, I sank into one of the stuffed chairs, stretching my feet out. Town life could be heard down in the street, wagons and horses going by, men and women shouting their wares while children laughed and squealed down the alley ways.  
I had to know. Getting back up and nearly running downstairs, I trotted to the fort. Stopping one of the officers, I said,  
"Where might I find all the documents on naval policy and laws?" The man stared in disbelief, stunned at my question.  
"This way, ma'am," he stuttered, and led me to a room filled with legal books.  
"Thank you. Don't breathe a word of this to anyone, understand?" He nodded. I gave him a sweet smile, and closed the door behind me. I scanned the shelves, finally pulling down a book on the most recent laws made for British ports. I don't know how long I read, but I went through several books, soaking in knowledge about laws on pirates, criminals, duties of the different ranks of officers and mates and so on, laws of the seas, terms of engagement, what to do if encountering an enemy ship. There was so much.  
"Miss Fitzgerald." I jumped in surprise, the chair clanging to the floor. Captain Norrington stood beside me, hands clasped behind his back.  
  
"Dammit, man, haven't you ever heard of knocking?" I gasped, nervous butterflies mingling with relief in my stomach.  
"Miss Fitzgerald, what are you doing in the fort's library, which is only for the use of officers of the British navy?" he asked, eyes boring into me.  
"I...I was learning. About the British navy, and its laws," I swallowed, intimidated. "I'm sorry I talked back to you, I was wrong. You're just doing your job. But...." I scuffed the floor with my shoe, lowering my gaze, not wanting to meet his.  
"But what?" he asked, his tone softer.  
"Do you always have to be so stuck up and prudish?" I blurted out, raising my gaze in time to see his jaw drop a few inches. "Honestly, man, in front of your officers, men, and the Governor is one thing, but is it so necessary in front of me?"  
"Miss Fitzgerald, I never have been spoken to in all my life in this manner," he said, voice hard and eyes glaring. "You may have learned a thing or two about British naval policies, but you still have a thing or two to learn about behavior in society."  
"I know enough to know that once two people meet and have a few chances to form a friendship, not so much stiff politeness is necessary. Try to relax for a change, if only around me!"  
"It is not in my nature. I have been brought up to be civil and polite in society as suits any respectable English gentleman. And to behave in the manner you've suggested in front of a lady is out of the question." Oh, he was pushing me. If I don't show him emotion, who will? I thought. Standing on my tip-toes almost, I grabbed his face and kissed him for all I was worth. His hands weren't sure quite what to do but just kind of hang suspended in mid-air. I noticed that he had a strong, pleasurable smell of the sea on him, that his lips were moist and vaguely salty in taste.  
Releasing the kiss, I slowly backed away from him. He was breathing hard, and was leaning on the table. My hands were shaking a little. The room was dead quiet. Slowly, I picked up my jacket from the back of the seat, and inched towards the door, still uncertain as to what had just happened.  
Norrington slammed his hand against the door, preventing my exit. His face no longer had the stiff impassivity on it, but was loose, eyes questioning and uncertain.  
"What are you doing?" he whispered.  
"I don't know." I licked my lips. "Maybe just trying to help you see that there's more to life than catching pirates and that it's ok to show a little emotion." I didn't know who was saying those words, but it felt and sounded like me. My hand reached for the door handle, and I eased my way past Norrington and out into the salty air of Port Royal.  
  
It's always been up to you,  
  
It's turning around,  
  
It's up to me,  
  
I'm gonna do what I have to do,  
  
just don't  
  
Gimme a little time,  
  
Leave me alone a little while,  
  
Maybe it's not too late,  
  
not today, today, today, today, today...  
  
Disclaimer: all lyrics by Avril Lavigne, from song "Tomorrow" 


	9. Norrington's Inner Turmoil

(third person omniscient)  
  
And I wanna believe you,  
  
When you tell me that it'll be ok,  
  
Ya I try to believe you, Not today, today, today, today  
  
Tomorrow it may change....  
  
Norrington didn't know what to think. He sank slowly into the chair where Fiona had been sitting moments before. For lack of anything else, he took of his tri-cornered hat and began to knead it in his hands. Swallowing, he placed it on the table, putting a hand over his eyes to try and calm himself. When this yielded no calming of his agitated nerves and reeling mind, he began to rub his temples. He couldn't breathe, and loosened his collar, a small part of his brain praying no officer, soldier, or seaman would walk in.  
Captain Lawrence Norrington had just experienced his first real kiss, unbeknownst to any one but himself. Granted, he had been kissed as a child by his mother, but had been brought up a gentleman by his father in a society where to kiss the back of a lady's hand was enough and where any show of emotion between a man and woman in public was frowned deeply upon. He had, thusly, blocked off any emotion from his heart except the hatred and anger towards pirates and, more recently, that fingerling of love he thought he felt for Elizabeth Swann. But now his heart, which he had iced over for so many years in exchange for advancing his naval career to great heights, was having a change of pace that he was having trouble dealing with.  
The distraught captain put his forehead into the palms of his hands. The table still showed handprints where he had been gripping it. He was unaccustomed to this type of boldness in a woman, and yet he found himself thinking it over, playing over the events of the past month in his head, beginning with Fiona's mysterious arrival. The logical portion of his mind kicked in, and he regained some sort of impassivity. But his logical, reasoning mind was now at war with his heart, something he had never dealt with before, since his heart and mind agreed on most matters.  
Perhaps Fiona was right. Maybe he did need to learn to feel a bit more and be less strict and impassive. But that is who and what I am, he told himself. It is my nature to be indifferent. I cannot allow emotion to overtake my mind and heart or else my career will be ruined. What about Elizabeth? What about her? You do love her, don't you, Lawrence? You want to ask the Governor for permission to request her hand in marriage.  
Norrington's heart tripped up, reining in. What about Elizabeth? he thought.  
Think, Lawrence, think very hard. Aren't you contradicting yourself just a little bit? Admit it – Fiona is a much better woman that Elizabeth could ever be.  
Is she?  
Fine, let's be logical and weigh the pros and cons. Elizabeth: wild, prone to be favorable towards pirates in nature and words, is pretty, is a woman, of marrying age, and doesn't bloody well love you! And let's keep in mind that she might pass on her love of pirates to her children!  
How do you know she doesn't love me?  
Lawrence, for pity's sake, don't you remember Will Turner? And she hasn't exactly been warm to you, has she? Now let me finish. From the little time you've known Fiona, you've learned that she is: pretty, smart, prone to a temper but with good reason and is able to apologize afterwards, of marrying age, of a sweet disposition, and she can sing. Please tell me you've noticed that she's slightly more cultured than your dear Miss Swann.  
Not good enough. I've known Miss Swann longer, I need more time to develop an opinion of Miss Fitzgerald.  
Norrington was exasperated, mostly with himself. He had let this go too far. Grinding his teeth with a fierce determination to put this incident behind him, he jammed his hat on his head and marched out with his normal, impassive mask and made a valiant attempt to resume what he considered to be his normal life.  
  
Disclaimer: lyrics by Avril Lavigne, "Tomorrow" 


	10. Bach and Unwelcome Visitors

(Fiona's POV) That same day, in the evening  
  
I remember me  
  
And all the little things that make up a memory  
  
Like she said she loved to watch me sleep  
  
Like she said:  
  
"It's the breathing, it's the breathing in and out and in and..." I guess I thought that someone would notice  
  
I guess I thought somebody would say something  
  
If I was missing  
  
Can't you see me?  
  
I picked up the bow, the cello leaning against me. The music was laid out on the bed. I quickly played a scale, the cello being tuned already. It was the Unaccompanied Cello Suite Prelude, No. 1, G Major. I hoped this would relax me.  
So, placing the bow on the strings and positioning my fingers, I took a deep breath, and began to play with the exhale.  
I lost myself in the music, you might say. As the music lilted, slowed, went faster, my eyes closed, letting the music guide my fingers. And then I saw it – my way home. A door, in the fort, into what appeared to be one of the offices – it went into my time. I continued to play, and the door opened and I saw into 2004. My parents were still arguing, but this time the police were there, and...they were asking about me. My father was raving mad, my mother was sitting on the couch, drink in hand, and several officers were searching the house. As the last note wavered and ended, the door closed, and I opened my eyes, staring at the floor. Should I go back? My heart was wrenching in my chest as memories flogged my mind, bringing back painful remembrances that I had tried so hard to forget. A few tears began to slide down my face.  
"You are truly talented, Miss Fitzgerald." I sighed inwardly, recognizing the voice.  
"You enjoy walking into my life unannounced, don't you, Captain?" I replied, without looking up.  
"Miss Fitzgerald? Are you all right?" The wood floor creaked under his footsteps.  
"I'm fine." I wiped away the tears. "So, what have I done now that made you seek me out?"  
"The Governor and Elizabeth have invited me to dinner at 7 pm. They said if I were to see you, to extend the invitation to you as well." I met his gaze.  
"Really? They told you that?"  
"Yes, they did." I smiled with relief.  
"I think I will come." He bowed, still eyeing me curiously. I supposed I still had tears stains on my cheeks, so turned my face away from him, putting the cello away and stacking the music on the dresser. There was an awkward silence in which we stood, my back to him.  
"You want something from me," I said, half turning but not looking at him.  
"In a sense, yes."  
"What kind of sense?"  
"You know what happened in the fort's library."  
"And you want me to apologize, ask for your forgiveness?"  
"Yes, dammit! Have you no respect for the rules put in place for society, for the feelings of others?"  
"I do have respect for them, and use them when necessary! But if I were you, I would ask myself the second part of your question. You put too much value on the rules of society, so much that you have forgotten how to feel! It's all rules to you!"  
"Oh, and I suppose you know how to feel perfectly well! Have you ever thought that perhaps you might feel too much, that maybe feeling is not everything? I must retain the rules of society and those of the navy, go by them as is my duty and in my nature to do so! You put too much value on feelings, and not enough on society's rules!"  
"I do not, sir! I have given up on feelings and rules because where I come from they don't exactly apply! Or did you not see the bruises and scars on my face when I first came here? I know you were there the first day I woke up!" We were on the verge of screaming at each other, our voices raised in anger.  
"Miss Fitzgerald, I must ask ye wot...." said Mrs. Mason, coming in.  
"Get out!" Norrington and I barked in unison. Her face paled, and she shut the door behind her quickly as she left.  
"For your information I have been through a whole load of shit in my life, and I have my reasons for wanting to feel more emotion than you might be willing to let into your life, Captain. I have been covering up my emotions for a long time, and now that I've finally found a life I'm pleased with, I find that the rules of society don't even let me have emotions! Don't you know what it's like to have emotions bottled up inside you and be unable to let them out?" I told him. "What's your excuse, huh? You have this giant stick up your ass that makes you replicate a complete jackass!"  
"I am not a jackass!" he whispered in anger. "I am an officer in the British Royal Navy, and as is my duty I must adhere to the rules put in place by the navy and society! You should know that my own father gave me a very strict upbringing, and if my mother had not been alive, he probably would have beaten the rules into me. He was an army man, and I abhor the army. The navy provided an escape, and it intrigued me, had intrigued me since I was a child. The navy is my life, Miss Fitzgerald. If I loose that, I have nothing else. What I have gained and accomplished thus far in rank, respect from others and status is of my own doing. You may call me proud, and yes, I am proud, but perhaps not in the way you think." I was silent. He only half understood. His parents had at least cared about him.  
Tears brimmed, but I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of bringing me to tears.  
"You've still got a stick up your ass," I said, "you're still stuck- up. I think all that achievement may have gone to your head. Try loving someone." I brushed past him to the door. "If you're finished I'd appreciate it if you'd leave, Captain." I jerked the door open, waiting for him to leave.  
"I do have feelings for someone – Elizabeth Swann," he replied, then stalked out. My mouth pulled down into a frown, shaking as the tears made my chest tighten. Slamming the door, I plunged my head into the pillow, and cried.  
  
Get away from me  
  
This isn't gonna be easy  
  
But I don't need you  
  
Believe me  
  
You got a piece of me  
  
But it's just a little piece of me  
  
And I don't need anyone  
  
And these days I feel like I'm fading away  
  
Disclaimer: lyrics belong to the Counting Crows  
  
Talia the Flame: Thanks. Glomp away – he needs it.  
  
Thanks to everyone else who reviewed...glad you enjoyed it and I sincerely apologize for the wait in the updating. School and graduation.... 


	11. Forgiving Rashness

I was in an 18th century gown and corset and underclothes again. Mrs. Archon had given them to me out of the kindness of her heart, saying the dress went well on me. It was a cream colored dress, the collar having a flowing Celtic knot stitched into it with immaculate precision and beauty. The dress was plain otherwise, though elegant if worn properly. Lace rimmed the sleeves that came to the elbow, and when in the light, the dress seemed to glow.  
"You look very pretty tonight, Miss Fitzgerald," said Mrs. Mason as I glided downstairs in the dress and uncomfortable shoes that I was still breaking in. I had hired a young girl to do up my hair earlier, and now some hung loose from the bun at the back, natural curls. I felt like I could barely move in the corset and everything else I had on, but managed to smile and continue on to the Governor's mansion.  
I wondered how Norrington and I would react towards each other over the course of the evening. More than once I considered turning back and sending my regrets, but stubborn pride took over and I continued.  
There, you admit it, you have as much stubborn pride as he does, said my mind.  
I never said I had as much as he did, I only admitted I have it, argued the other half of me.  
Maybe if you will accept it and admit it to him, you might get along better. You know, you've almost broken his heart on several occasions.  
Damn his heart! And why do I have to admit and apologize every time? Why can't he?  
Maybe he will.  
I sighed. Not in any likelihood would Captain Norrington stoop to my level and apologize. He knew his position in life was much higher than mine.  
I stood in front of the door, stomach in knots. I hadn't been this nervous before in my life. Raising my hand, I quickly knocked, biting my lower lip. Running footsteps clattered across the floor, and the door swing open. Elizabeth beamed out at me.  
"I'm so glad you're here, dearest Fiona," she said, pulling me inside.  
"Why?" I asked, surprised.  
"Well, I assume you know Norrington is here, and I was hoping you might keep him occupied. I don't want to speak to him – you know I can't stand him, much less the though of marrying him." My heart dropped. "Fiona? You're pale, what's wrong?"  
"Nothing. How are you?"  
"Couldn't be better. And you still owe me a lesson!"  
"You know where I live. Come by sometime in the evening and I'll see what I can do."  
"Miss Fitzgerald, how nice of you to come," said Swann, who appeared out of the parlor, a giant smile on his face. He placed a light kiss on my hand, and as I looked beyond him, I saw Norrington following slowly in a saunter, almost, his face impassive, eyes sad. He paused as he saw me. I inclined my head, and he made a small bow. At that moment I decided to try to be quite the lady for the evening. And I was – making polite conversation, yielding to my true 18th century self – for it was in the 18th century where I belonged, where many people thought I belonged. And I was happy – this life seemed so much more natural to me, not forced. It was as though the person who had argued with Norrington earlier in the day hadn't been me, just a derivative of me in another life.  
Jokes, stories, anecdotes of England and America were told, and at about 11 pm, the party ended. Norrington and I had gotten along quite well, as one should in polite society – leave your problems at the door. As I stepped outside, breathing in the truly fresh air, he was at my side. We stood silently on the door step, staring up at the stars. I don't think either of us wanted to start a conversation for fear of it blowing up in our faces. So we were just quiet.  
  
(switch to Norrington's POV)  
She was beautiful, standing there in the lamplight, her face lifted to the sky at just the right angle. My heart had skipped a beat when I first saw her, when she arrived. I could barely keep my eyes off her the whole evening. Hopefully she didn't notice. She was quite different from the woman I had argued with earlier in the day. And yet despite the argument, I still found myself attracted to her, interested in her background. After my mind had settled, my blood had stopped boiling, I began to realize much we mirrored and didn't mirror each other. Indeed, she was much more interesting than Elizabeth – there was more to Fiona that was present on the surface and underneath, that one could only find by understanding the rest of her first. Elizabeth was just...there. She wasn't mysterious. Well, perhaps in her own way, but she wasn't my type.  
Fiona turned her face to me, appearing as if she wanted to say something. Her perfect, blue-grey-green eyes stared up at me, speaking to me, it seemed. That face – it was so soft in this light, so beautiful. My eyes shifted over her, resting on the stone steps as I clasped my hands behind me.  
"I don't have a 'never,' I don't have an 'always,'" she said softly. "I'm a poor man ready to love those who are like me. I don't know who you are. I don't give or sell thorns. I gave doves in repayment for vileness. I don't have a 'never' because I was, am, will be unique."  
I was silent, thinking over her words.  
"That's from a poem by Pablo Neruda, a Chilean poet," she said, staring out at the town. "There's more to it, much more that is important to me. Whenever I'm sad, I just say that poem over and over to me, the whole thing."  
"We...were both a bit hasty in our words this afternoon," I replied slowly, my hands in front of me now, something I could focus on.  
"Yes. But I think it may have done some good."  
"Perhaps." In my mind's eye I reached out for her, touching her arm, taking her hand, yearning to comfort her. But I remained still, keeping a respectful distance.  
"I'm running, Captain," she confessed, fully turning to look at me.  
"Running?" My brow furrowed.  
"From an old life, which was not worth living. You know what I'm talking about." I did. Then her words, the poem, made sense. I suddenly had a violent urge to take her into my arms, tell her it would be all right in the end, something I had never felt before. Don't be weak, I told myself. You are still at the Governor's home.  
"But I'm sure we can find something else to talk about," she continued. "I just needed to tell you that I am running."  
"Let me walk you home," I offered. "The streets of Port Royal, especially in the direction you are going, are not always kind." Her eyes met mine, and a faint smile appeared on her face. She took my arm, and we headed towards the Hunsford Inn.  
"Sir, I have inherited a stubborn pride from my parents that may have helped incite the argument earlier," she said, breaking the silence.  
"Nonsense."  
"No, it's true. I wanted a chance to prove a point."  
"In that case I suppose I am as guilty as you. Perhaps we were making rather rash judgments without knowing enough about each other first."  
"Rash judgments? I thought that was your forte, Captain." I detected the tease in her voice, and she squeezed my forearm. I smiled. "Only a joke, sir, you understand. Yes, our judgments were a bit hasty, but well founded at the time, according to ourselves."  
"I agree, but I still hold to what I stated about my upbringing."  
"Understandable. The way one is brought up affects the way one lives." I had nothing to say in response to that. We reached the Inn, stopping at the door.  
"So, are we on better footing now, sir?" she asked, gazing at me with a half-smile.  
"I believe so, yes." Against my better judgment, I took her hand, stroking its back with my thumb. She pulled back, the smile gone. "What?"  
"Nothing. A passing memory." She swallowed. "Would you care to come upstairs, for a glass of wine, maybe?"  
"No, thank you. I must return to the fort. Duty, you understand." She nodded.  
"Goodnight, Captain," she said, beginning to open the door.  
"Goodnight, Miss Fitzgerald," I replied. She disappeared inside the door, and I took my time getting back to the fort, thoughts of her beautiful eyes and face fluttering through my mind. 


	12. I've Found My Way Back

I had learned much in my time at Port Royal, mostly just to be myself and express myself freely without being afraid that someone might hurt me for it. I was a different person, a person who belonged in 1765. But my previous life was still very real.

I had friends now, a new and happy life, one that I was not ready to leave. But I knew I had to go back sometime, face them again. Every time I saw the fort, I saw the door, and a foreboding crept over me that shook me. Would my parents even listen to me, accept me as someone who no longer belonged to them? Either way, I had to go tell them that I had my own life, and that I no longer wanted to be associated with them.

At least two months had passed, three complete months since my arrival. I had not seen Norrington much – he had left about a month after the dinner at the Governor's home in search of a band of renegade pirates. During that month I had seen him only twice, and just briefly for the space of about an hour or so each time. Our conversations had been very easy, and he had even smiled once or twice. We talked a great deal about the navy, and I had promised him a story about my time at the Virginia Beach port with my uncle.

The last I had heard from Norrington was a letter Mrs. Mason had given me one day when I was returning from a fencing lesson with Will Turner. The script was elegant, the envelope sealed with a stamp. I opened it as I jogged up to my room.

_Miss Fitzgerald – _

_Duty calls me to the sea. I am to leave in two days, so I will have to postpone our meeting and your promised story until I return. Unfortunately, I cannot say exactly when I will return, but I do not doubt that I shall return within a few months. Pirates are not that hard to find and capture._

_Wish us safe passage, and I hope to return soon as my curiosity cannot be kept at bay much longer concerning your story._

_Regards,_

_Capt. L. Norrington_

Now, I waited, passing the time at work, with Will and Elizabeth. It was well into May, the weather balmy and wonderful. I had begun adapting to 18th century clothing, finding it easier to wear men's clothes, but wearing women's when I needed to. I would only wear dresses around Norrington and the Governor and at the fort, but I would switch to more comfortable dresses that didn't need corsets at work and wear men's clothes with Will.

"Fiona!" Will appeared from a side street, weighed down with swords and buckles. He staggered up to me, and I grabbed some of the load. "Thank you."

"Where are you headed?"

"The fort. These are officers' things that needed repairing."

"I'll help. Come on." He smiled with relief, and we evened the loads, going off to the fort.

"We are we going to have our next duel?" he asked.

"I don't know. I've been thinking about finally going back to 2004. I think I may have found a way."

"Why? You're happy here, aren't you? What's the point? I thought you hated life there."

"I do, but I feel obligated to go back, give an explanation, and then leave. I mean, they should know, right?"

"I suppose. My father died when I was young, so I don't remember him. My mother died when I was 9, so I came out here."

"Sorry."

"It's all right." We were quiet for a moment. "I've been wanting to thank you for what you've been doing for me and Elizabeth, the meetings. We wouldn't have been able to meet had you not shown up."

"No problem, really. I think Norrington is beginning to get the idea that Elizabeth doesn't like him as a possible husband. As a friend, that's ok. But she loves you." Will grinned sheepishly, almost giddily.

"How do you know about Norrington?"

"I don't _know_, per say, I'm just getting an inkling from the way he acts around her now. It's changed – he's not as interested any more. And it doesn't seem to bother him."

Will shrugged, not caring the slightest bit as long as he had Elizabeth. We arrived at the fort, an officer directing us to the armory, where the swords were taken by a young man. I was still in my work clothes, a dress that couldn't be placed in the common or the upper class and a bodice.

"Well, I've got to get back to the shop," Will excused himself. I wandered across the ramparts, glancing between the bay and the door I had seen when playing Bach. I was looking back towards the bay when my eyes fell upon the _Dauntless_, which was anchored in the bay. Norrington had left on the _Dauntless._ Turning to the nearest soldier, I asked,

"When did the _Dauntless_ return?"

"Not 10 minutes ago, Miss," he said. My eyes frantically darted over the docks, until I saw the tall figure, signing papers with a flick of the quill. A sigh escaped me, my heart slowing. _What's wrong with me?_ I thought. _Why should I care about him?_ I pulled myself back into the shadows, both physically and mentally. _No, I can't, I can't risk that._ I slipped down the stairs to the parade ground, then hesitated. My eyes flitted towards the door, and I walked towards it. Standing before it, I could hear my heart pounding in my chest and ears. Reaching out, I wanted to open it, turn the latch and go fix everything and come back. Or not come back. Cold brass came in contact with skin, and my fingers curled around the latch.

"Fiona!" My hand leapt back as I stepped away from the door. Boots crunched on gravel, and Norrington appeared. "Fiona?" he said, sounding concerned. His hand touched my arm. I took a deep breath, still staring at the door. Then, I greeted him.

"Welcome back, Captain," I said.

"Thank you. Are you well?"

"I think so." I followed him out onto the ramparts. "Was your escapade successful?"

"Yes. All were killed, and the ship was destroyed at sea."

"Any British casualties?" I asked.

"Only a few wounded." I nodded, feeling distant. I had to leave, and soon.

"Excuse me, Captain, I have to go." I curtsied clumsily and fast-walked out of the fort, only breaking into a run in the town.

I sat on the bed, lower back touching the backboard. My legs were drawn up, my arms resting on them, my chin on them, a semi-fetal position but sitting up. I wasn't thinking about anything – I was in a limbo of sorts.

A faint knock came, and a servant girl came in.

"'scuse me, miss, but a boy done just brought a note for ya, said it was urgent." I held out a hand, not looking at her, and felt the rectangular piece of parchment in my palm.

"Thank you," I excused her flatly. After the door shut, I held up the envelope, and recognized the elegant script of Norrington. What could he want? Opening it, I soon found out.

_Dear Fiona –_

_What were you doing in the fort this afternoon? You seemed distant when we talked, and you were extremely pale. I may be forward in writing this, but your condition has caused me some concern._

_While I am desirous of an explanation, please do not over-exert yourself on my account. I look forward to seeing you sometime in the near future._

_Regards,_

_Capt. Lawrence Norrington_

The first three things I noticed where his opening address, his closing address, and the almost casualness of the note. First it had just been 'Miss Fitzgerald,' in person and in letters, now it was 'Dear Fiona.'

I dropped the letter on the bed, stretching out. He did deserve an explanation. Where would he be now?

Grabbing my coat, I dashed out onto the street, jogging to the fort. The night air was cool against my skin, bringing in the scent of the sea. As I reached the fort, two redcoats stopped me.

"Sorry, miss, no one allowed in the fort after dark," said one.

"I'm here to see Captain Norrington."

"Sorry, can't let you in 'less I got orders from Captain Norrington or the commodore."

"Forsythe, what's going on down there?" barked a familiar voice.

"Someone here to see you, Captain," called back Forsythe. "Young lady named…."

"Fitzgerald," I told him.

"A Miss Fitzgerald, sir."

"Let her in!" A side door opened and I was admitted. Norrington was there in an instant, frowning. "What are you doing here at this time of night?" he asked lowly, pulling me into the shadows.

"You said you wanted an explanation! So here I am!"

"I didn't say now!"

"Never a good as time as the present!"

"Tomorrow. I'm on duty and cannot take up time with such trivial matters as this. I have a city to protect, and with the recent killings of those pirates I could soon have a lot of angry pirates on my hands coming to get the three being hanged in the morning." I bit my lower lip, then nodded, turning away. "I was hoping you'd understand, Miss Fitzgerald," he said, more calmly, "that the protection of this city is my first priority. I meant no disrespect to you."

"Of course you want the best for the townspeople. I'll be on my way…And the explanation is that I've found my way back. The door you saw me at is my way home. I'll be leaving in a few days, so if I don't see you again, goodbye." I slammed the door behind me, and marched down the street.


	13. Moving On

**(Norrington's POV)**

_And I'd give up forever to touch you  
'Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
And I don't want to go home right now_

_  
And all I can taste is this moment  
And all I can breathe is your life  
'Cause sooner or later it's over  
I just don't want to miss you tonight  
_

She was leaving. My heart had stopped and my throat clenched when I head her utter those three sentences: "…And the explanation is that I've found my way back. The door you saw me at is my way home. I'll be leaving in a few days, so if I don't see you again, goodbye."

I made my rounds, completed my duty in the normal manner and without thinking on it much. When I returned to my quarters, however, the realization that she would no longer be in Port Royal come the end of the week was a bit of a shock.

I could not just let her leave. The image of her bruised face was amazingly still fresh in my mind, and the story she had told of how she had come by it was horrifying. Who would beat their children and make them feel so worthless? _My father could have, but he was too much of a gentleman to actually do it_, I thought. And her way back was in the fort.

There were several ways in which I knew I could approach this. One was simply to have her banned from the fort. Another was to request that she not leave. She would suspect something either way. What baffled my mind was that she wanted to go back at all.

"Fiona, what are you thinking?" I said aloud, resting my head in the palm of my hand. "Perhaps I should go talk to her…in the morning." Could I wait until then? Wait, the hanging was in the morning. "Perhaps she is still up." I glanced at the table clock – 11:56. No, she would not be. I would have to wait until after the hanging, to my utter chagrin.

I went out onto the ramparts, trying to dispel my restlessness. Everything was peaceful, calm, in order, everything perfectly in place, just as it should be. Except me. What the devil was going on? I kept my outward appearance under control, staring out at the docks as my insides twisted and my chest clenched. As my eyes traveled along the edge of the beach, where small waves broke upon the shore, I saw a figure sitting on the edge of the pier, in the dim starlight. It was too dark to distinguish anything from this distance. Retrieving an eyeglass, I peered down at the figure, who was holding was appeared to be an instrument, something similar to a…guitar. The eyeglass dropped.

"Fiona," I whispered. Shoving the eyeglass into the hand of the nearest guard, I left the fort, going quickly down to the docks. I slowed, trying to be as quiet as possible on the pier she sat on the end of. She had put the guitar down by this point. Walking forward and maintaining a calm disposition, I confronted her.

"Miss Fitzgerald, may I be so bold as to ask what you're doing out on the pier at this time of night when most of the rest of the town is asleep."

She jumped with fright, on her feet in a scrambling hurry. Breathing hard, she put her hand over her heart and leaned against one of the poles keeping the pier anchored.

"You have a nasty habit of surprising people," she gasped. "Especially me."

"I suppose that's why I'm so good at catching pirates." She smirked, but said nothing. "What are you doing out here?"

"Thinking."

"Why are you leaving?" I asked, knowing it was useless to avoid the subject any longer than necessary.

"Why do you care?" she returned softly, not raising her gaze from the dock's wooden slats. I lifted her chin, and in the dim light of the torches saw tears on her cheeks. My brow furrowed, and she turned away.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," I confessed in a murmur, surprised at my own boldness. I felt much younger than my 31 years. With difficulty, I continued. "I have been struggling with my emotions ever since that day in the library, maybe even before. Elizabeth is not the forefront of my thoughts now. You are…you have so many admirable qualities that I could never hope to find in a woman. Admittedly, you lack on a few points, but those can be fixed because I know you have the strength to fix them."

Fiona faced me, her cheeks dry.

"I swear, if you break my heart, I'll make your life miserable," she whispered, eyes blazing but suspicious and timid.

"I shall do my best not to. I only want to help you." Tears fell down her cheeks, and she came forward, arms open, putting them around my waist. For a moment, I was unsure of what to do in this situation. Here I was, being hugged by a woman who I had known only a few months, and yet felt the world for. Perhaps the rules did not matter now, in the middle of the night. Moving her over into the shadows under the overhang of houses on the path that led up from the beach to the city, I held her, putting aside all second thoughts and damning, for the moment, proper etiquette. Her head came up to my chin, which I rested on her sandy-blond hair, and she nestled into my chest.

"Thank you, Lawrence," she said, voice thick with tears. My heart throbbed with new warmth, and I felt about 10 years younger. I wouldn't say I was giddy, I would say I was spilling over with happiness.

_Now I understand what you tried to say to me  
And how you suffered for your sanity   
How you tried to set them free  
They would not listen, they did not know how  
Perhaps they'll listen now_

Intro Lyrics By Goo-Goo Dolls.

Ending Lyrics By Don McLean, "Vincent"


	14. A Promotion and An Impending Discussion

**(Norrington's POV)**

I approached my duties with a fresh eye the next morning, feeling like my old self again. Everything went according to my orders, men snapping to attention and performing their duties with quick efficiency. The officers were very punctual, behaving like the men they were.

A letter waited on the desk as I stepped into my office. It had come from London, I discovered as I picked it up and read the return address on the back. The government – naval headquarters. A lump formed in my throat and my stomach became butterflies. What could the navy want here? There was nothing wrong with Port Royal's capabilities as a naval port and British colony.

Composing myself and preventing my hands from shaking, I opened the letter and leaned back in my chair.

_To Captain Lawrence Norrington_

_From Admiral Horatio Huntington_

_London, Headquarters of the Navy_

_February 25, 1765_

_Dear Sir:_

_I am pleased to hand over to you the title of COMMODORE at the British colony PORT ROYAL, and put you in command of all naval activities there and in the surrounding areas under British control._

_Further orders are to be found enclosed, and a letter has been sent to Governor Swann informing him of the change of naval command. Keep up the good work, Sir._

_Sincerely,_

_Adm. H. Huntington_

The large seal of the British Navy had been stamped under Huntington's name. Excitement rose in my chest, and I wanted to yell for joy, but knew better. Folding the letter back up and replacing it in its envelope, I stuck it in my pocket and went to pay a quick visit to Fiona and then the Governor.

I waited after knocking outside Fiona's door, and it quickly opened. Her face opened into a smile.

"Lawrence! Come in! To what do I owe this surprise?" she asked. I produced the envelope, and she eyed it and then me questioningly.

"Read it," I said, clasping my hands behind my back. She turned it over.

"Hm, naval headquarters," she noted and opened it. She mouthed the letter silently, and her face lit up. "Oh, Lawrence, how wonderful!" She threw her arms around my neck, hugging my tightly. "You must feel so proud."

"Yes, actually, I am. I am going to go see Governor Swann to arrange everything."

"Well, Commodore, you shall need a new uniform as befitting your new title." She giggled, happy for me. I kissed her hands.

"I must go," I told her.

"Yes, I don't mean to keep you waiting." She shoved me out the door with a grin. "Don't forget to tell me when it is!" she called after me.

(Fiona's POV)

Lawrence Norrington loved me. The stuck up naval captain who had a stick up his ass loved me. It defied all logical reason. Of course, he hadn't actually told me, but he had implied it. His entire attitude had changed. I could scarcely believe any of it. He still appeared to be the impassive captain I had met a few months before, caring on for naval life. And yet – last night. Things like that didn't happen for no reason. He had purposefully come to me. And this morning – I had been the first to find out about his becoming Commodore. I had to tell someone. Elizabeth.

I nearly ran to the Governor's house, and let myself in without knocking.

"Elizabeth!" I called. Her door opened. I dashed up the stairs and went into her room, shutting the door behind me. "Is Captain Norrington here?"

"No, he went out to find father at the fort. Fiona, what's wrong? You're breathless."

"He loves me." I felt oddly giddy in a surreal setting.

"Who loves you?"

"Norrington. At least I think he does." Her lips parted, and she let out a shriek of happiness. We both shrieked together, holding each other and leaping across the room. We fell, breathless on the bed.

"I don't think you and Will have any problems now except perhaps your father," I gasped.

"I didn't believe he was possible of feeling love," Elizabeth said. "And yet when he came this morning, his demeanor was different. He was and yet wasn't the same Lawrence Norrington I've known since the crossing from England."

"I can't believe it either – it seems so very surreal, like it didn't actually happen, like it was a dream and I'm still dreaming. I've never felt this way before. I don't really now how to react to it."

"I know what you mean – I have often felt that way around Will. But I'm so happy for you – you have finally found love from someone!"

"But I have to leave," I said suddenly. "I have to go clear things up at home." Elizabeth propped herself up on her elbow, and I looked up at her. "That changes things a bit, doesn't it?"

"Not necessarily. You don't have to go back, but even if you did, I'm sure Norrington would wait for you. Ask him – you have told him you have to go back, haven't you?"

"Yes. I'm just…scared." I swallowed, tenseness rising in my shoulders and stomach. "I don't want to have to go through another argument, another beating. If I go back, there's no telling what my father might do. He frightens me, Lizzy."

"Have you told Norrington this?" I shook my head. "So he only knows that you're going back to a father who beats you."

"He did say that he didn't want anything to happen to me."

"There you have it."

"I just don't think he knows the danger I could be in if I go back."

"Why can't you tell him?"

"He frightens me a little bit, too, you know. Naval commanders have a very foreboding demeanor." She chuckled, nodding.

"I find it hard to tell my father things. For example, me and Will. How am I supposed to tell him about that?"

"We both seem to be in a dilemma of sorts. Ironically, we both deal with men who…."

A knock interrupted me.

"Yes?" said Elizabeth. A young servant girl came in with a curtsy.

"The Governor wishes to see you, Miss Elizabeth," she said.

"Thank you, I'll be down directly." The girl curtsied and left. Elizabeth glanced over at me as I sat up. "What do you think this is about?"

"He probably wants to tell you that Norrington got promoted to Commodore and how he expects you to make the right decision concerning marriage. As far as I know he's still in the dark about Norrington's possible love for me."

"He got promoted to Commodore?"

"Told me this morning."

"Well, that does change things a bit. I don't want to lay it on him too hard that I'm not interested in Norrington, a naval commander, but rather a blacksmith."

"Why don't you let Norrington deal with his arena, and you focus on you and Will? I'll undoubtedly be pulled into this thing somehow, and be questioned unto no end about my role in the meetings between you and Will. But y'all liked each other before I came, right?"

"Yes. You are the best friend I've ever had, Fiona. Come on, let's go down together. I'm sure father would be glad to see you." We were both in dresses, Elizabeth more elegantly dressed than I. My dress was simpler, but I didn't mind. "And I think I'll have to take you shopping and get you some new dresses. You look so beautiful in my dresses – I'll have to get you some, yes, I shall." We went out and began walking downstairs. Swann appeared from under the staircase, followed by Norrington, and they were still in deep discussion. Swann must have heard us, for he glanced up, and smiled.

"There you are, Elizabeth. Captain Norrington has some news."

"Yes, I heard. Congratulations, Captain, on your promotion."

"What, you know? How?"

"Fiona told me. She came by to visit." I had frozen at the sight of Norrington, doubt clutching at my heart. I gripped the railing, watching as Elizabeth joined her father and Norrington. Norrington looked up at me, and came up the stairs. Gently, he pried my hand from the railing. I drew back a little, gazing up at his stern face.

"You don't need to be frightened, nothing will happen to you here."

"Governor Swann wants you to marry Elizabeth, expects you to," I blurted out in a whisper.

"I know. I have explained to him my change of heart, and he understands. All he needs is to know how Elizabeth feels. Do not let this bother you – Governor Swann knows your qualities, and he admires you." I became hopeful, and glanced down at Swann, who smiled jovially, yet knowingly, at me. He made a small nod. "And I think Elizabeth might have feelings for another. Come, let's join them." I took his arm, and we went down to Swann.

"So, shall we plan for the change of command in 2 days time?" said Swann, smiling at us.

"Yes, that will do nicely," Norrington agreed.

"Miss Fitzgerald, Captain, if you will excuse my daughter and I, we have some things to discuss."

"Of course, Governor," Norrington and I assented. They moved back into Swann's study.

"Lawrence, we need to talk," I said quietly. "Not here."

"Let's go to my office."


	15. A Decision Is Reached

_THAT crazed girl improvising her music._

_Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,_

_Her soul in division from itself_

_Climbing, falling She knew not where,_

_Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,_

_Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare_

_A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing_

_Heroically lost, heroically found._

_William Butler Yeats_

**(Norrington's POV)**

I shut the door behind me, Fiona sitting in the chair across from my desk. Setting my hat on the desk and pulling my chair around to face her, I sat and took her hands in mine. Her face remained facing down, staring.

"What is it?" I asked her.

"I'm afraid, Lawrence, I…." Her voice trailed off.

"Afraid of what?"

A shaky sigh escaped her lips. "You know I have to go home, but I'm afraid of going back even though I know I have to face my father. If I go home, I may not come back. My father, he…he could kill me, Lawrence."

My heart was wrenching with anger against a man I hadn't met. "You do not need to put yourself in such a dangerous position! I will not allow you to. Fiona, you have to let your past go."

"The only way I can let it go is to confront it." Fiona lifted her face, eyes clear. She was silently pleading with me. Could I let her do this? Could she understand how much pain it would cause me if she were to die? "Lawrence, you are my friend, and I respect your opinion, but I have to do this for my own good. If I don't, I will never be free of them, of the memories, of anything aligned with them." I sighed, shoulders slumping forward slightly. We sat in silence, not an awkward one, but one that revealed an understanding.

Straightening, I rose, and began pacing around the room, then around my desk. What could I do to make Fiona stay?

"Would you come back to Port Royal after straightening things out with your parents?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it." Fiona looked up. "Do you want me to come back?"

"Yes," I admitted. "You are welcome in Port Royal at any time." Could I let her go, willingly? Could I live with myself if I let her leave and never come back?

"Lawrence." Fiona gripped my shoulders, her sweet face half-smiling up at me. "Stop pacing. I'm going, whether you want me to or not. And I will come back to see you if you want me to." I half-smiled, dropping my head.

"There's no stopping you, is there?"

"No, not this time."

"Will you at least stay for the change of command?"

"I'd be happy to." There was a knock at the door.

"What?" I snapped, glaring. A young boy entered.

"Sir, Governor Swann sent me to give this to you," he stuttered, holding out a note. I flicked my chin as I took it, and he fled.

"I'll go," Fiona said. She made for the door, then stopped, hand resting on the door handle. "I may need your help, ok, Lawrence? I may need you to be there for me." With that, she left, quietly closing the door behind her.

Poem by William Butler Yeats


	16. The Promotion

**(Fiona's POV)**

Drums and fifes echoed up to the ramparts, over the heads of the crowd. The crunch of boots on gravel was faintly heard under the military music as the soldiers marched out onto the parade ground. They stopped as the music stopped, then turned with precision, moving together. The rifles moved up, making a point archway. Governor Swann stood on the stone stage-like area that stuck out from the covered area that went back into the fort's wall and grew up into a tower, dressed in noble attire, a blue suit with a rusty gold stitching. Elizabeth Swann sat up on a dais with other women, moving her fan back and forth and looking uncomfortable. And then, through the raised rifles, Captain Norrington could be seen walking towards Governor Swann, wearing his new Commodore's uniform. He was quite as he was before, in appearance, manners, and attitude. It was as though nothing had happened at all.

I stood on the ramparts, gazing down at the goings-on. I would leave that evening, my bags waiting in my room at the Inn. Mrs. Mason and Mrs. Archon had both broken down into tears when the heard I was leaving, and begged me to return as speedily as I might. Knowing I could make no promises at this point, I assured them I would do my best to come visit them.

Both Elizabeth and Governor Swann had been sorry to hear I was going, and afterwards Elizabeth had fled to her room and cried for an hour before going secretly to see Will to soothe her aching heart. Norrington had just stood there, gazing at me intently, sorrowfully. What had he been thinking? What had I done? Did he actually have feelings for me?

Norrington reached Governor Swann, who handed him a sword special made by Will and fit for a Commodore of his status. The officers behind Swann watched in awed and revered silence as the respected Captain tested the sword, going through the ceremony to becoming a Commodore. Watching this, I thought, _This might be one of the last times I ever see him._ I took a deep breath, making fists as the bitterness and anger rose. At the same time I was happy – Norrington was getting his desired promotion in his favorite career, and Will and Elizabeth could possibly have a future together if Swann allowed it. But would I be here to be happy with them? Unlikely.

A trio of huzzah's went up from the parade ground, and the ceremony ended. People moved, and the hired musicians began playing. I wondered if I should bother going down and making everyone I knew miserable with the thought that I would soon be leaving and might not be coming back. As I turned towards the sea and docks, a peculiar sight caught my eye. Just beyond the _Interceptor_, I saw the very top of a mast with a blue, white and red flag sticking out of it, sitting in the water. No ship, just the very top of a mast sitting a few inches from the end of the pier. I stared for a few moments, then turned away, shaking my head. _Not possible,_ I thought.

Despite my wanting not to make anyone miserable, I went down to the covered area, looking for a familiar face. Swann swooped down on me almost instantly.

"Commodore Norrington is looking for you," he said with a note of pride in his voice. "He seemed very anxious that you be here."

"Do you know where he is now?" I asked, surprised that he would be looking for me. I was under the impression that he was still silently irritated at my leaving.

"Right over there, near the musicians, with the officers," he pointed out, and being discreet about it. I thanked him and went to Norrington. As I approached, his glance moved to me, and he smiled slightly, then excused himself. He directed me up to the ramparts where I had been only moments before.

"I did not see you at the ceremony," he said.

"I was on the ramparts," I replied. "I didn't know you were looking for me."

"Shall we go there now?" I took the offered arm and climbed the steps to a semi-secluded area. At that moment, we were glanced down on the crowd, unwilling to say anything that might cause more unpleasantness than necessary. He rotated on his heel, staring out to sea and then down at the wall, leaning on it. I put my hand over his, squeezing it. He glanced over, eyebrows raised. "Shilling for your thoughts," I said softly. His eyes went back to the wall while his fingers intertwined with mine.

"You know my thoughts."

"Do I?" He was silent. "Lawrence, look at me." He turned to me obediently, and I took his other hand. "I want you to remember what I'm about to tell you, even if I don't wind up coming back, all right? I may not get another chance to say it." He nodded. "I love you, Lawrence Norrington, and nothing will change that. If I could have my way I would wish away all my grief and everything that's gone wrong and stay here with you." His eyes closed, breathing shaky, and tears began trailing down his cheeks. My brow furrowed as I understood that he really did care a great deal, that his heart was breaking. He hastily wiped away the tears before drawing me into a darkened corner and placing a faint kiss on my lips.

"Fiona, I care a great deal for you," he began swallowing. "I have never been a very emtional person, since I was taught not to be. I once believed myself to be in love with Miss Swann, but it's probably better not to dwell on that now. You leaving to confront your father I am vehemently against because I do not want you to be hurt. If you were to be hurt, what would I do? I feel as though I may speak to you and say anything..." He frowned. "Marry me," he said, eyes pleading with me. "Put an end to my misery. Do what you need to do, but please, marry me." I stared, and for a moment my throat tightened with surprise. And I then began to breathe.

"Yes, I'll marry you, Commodore Lawrence Norrington," I whispered. His face washed with relief, a smile appearing slightly, eyes shining. He buried his face in my neck, holding me tightly.

Lifting his face, he produced a ring from his pocket. It was silver, a deep blue, almost black stone was set in it. A little bit of Celtic knot-work went around it, two pearls sitting diagonally across it.

"How did you afford this?"

"I can afford anything for the woman I love," he smiled.

"Commodore!" Lawrence whipped around.

"What?" he called back.

"Miss Swann, she's fallen!" We both ran down to the parade ground. Swann was in a fit of hysterics, and we were soon on our way down to the docks. Two redcoats were standing by the _Interceptor_ as a dirty, wet man was kneeling over Miss Swann, who had been reduced to wearing only her undergarments.

Swann ran forward, helping her to her feet and putting his jacket around her. Swords came out and bayonets were pointed at the aforementioned man. Lawrence pressed his sword to the man's chin until he rose.

"Commodore, father, this man saved my life – there's no need for any violence," assured Elizabeth. The soldiers reluctantly lowered their weapons, and I watched between Lawrence and the man apprehensively. Lawrence lowered his sword.

"I believe thanks are in order," he said stiffly, and as his hand grabbed the man's, he tore back the sleeve, revealing a branded "P." "Pirate," he said, on the verge of sneering. The man flinched. "Jack Sparrow, I see," Lawrence said, revealing a tattoo.

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," said the man, sounding like he was slightly drunk.

"Gillete, irons, now!" ordered Norrington, grabbing Sparrow by the arm and dragging him away from Elizabeth. "Men, keep your guns on him, make sure he doesn't try to escape." Elizabeth immediately protested, though I wasn't listening. I had my eyes on Sparrow. He didn't seem like the normal pirate. He was so – spacey-like. Like his brain wasn't completely there and yet was. He grinned at me in a suggestive manner, and I backed away. I had the urge to tell Lawrence to get a grip and just let Sparrow go, but the other half of me won. As I was walking away, a shout went up and, whirling, I saw Elizabeth being held "captive," if that was what you could call it, by Sparrow. I nearly ran into an officer as I walked backwards.

"Sorry," I muttered, then paused. "Hey, hold on one second. Gimme your pistol." He stared. "Give it too me!" He handed it over. "Is it loaded?" He nodded. "Thanks, be back in a minute." I snuck around behind the stone pillar so I would come around behind Sparrow. Reaching his back, I pulled the trigger and put it to his head.

"Let her go, Sparrow," I said flatly. "She isn't the navy." Lawrence and Swann were staring, and Sparrow had frozen. He dropped his pistol, lifting his hands and the chain from around Elizabeth's neck. She fled to Swann's arms while Sparrow turned around.

"Now, luv, let's be reasonable…." he began. I hauled my fist back and gave him a punch. His face snapped to my left before he crumpled to the ground. There was silence from everyone. I un-cocked the pistol, handing it back to the stunned officer.

"He's all yours," I said to Lawrence and Swann.

"Take him to a cell in the fort," said Lawrence, and two soldiers moved forward. "See that he's watched. Gillete, prepare the gallows for a morning hanging." Gillete nodded, and left, followed by a few soldiers. Swann moved off with Elizabeth. "The rest of you, watch for any suspicious ships arriving into the bay," said Norrington, and the soldiers dispersed. I took that moment to slip out of sight.


	17. Returning Home

**(Fiona's POV)**

_And you can't fight the tears that ain't  
coming  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
When everything feels like the movies  
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive_

And I don't want the world to see me  
'Cause I don't think that they'd  
understand  
When everything's made to be broken  
I just want you to know who I am

_--Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris"  
_

Lawrence didn't ask about what had happened on the docks, just left a short note and a pistol with extra shots and powder on my bed. _Use it if you need to,_ he had written. I would, I thought, if I got the chance.

I left without alerting anyone. I left all my things save my backpack with enough clothes for a week, paying Mrs. Mason advance rent and leaving an address with her should anything come up, which I found highly unlikely.

The fort was quiet. Lawrence was no where in sight. After a leaving a farewell note on his desk, I slunk to the door that would take me home for a short time, scarcely believing I was engaged. The ring felt very new on my finger, and I kept fidgeting with it. Now, however, my thoughts were on other things.

My hand grasped the door's handle, and I pulled it open. The smell of gasoline fumes wafted into my nostrils, rancid and sharp, and the city lights reflected on the night sky, overcast. The dim figures of people could be seen walking down the sidewalks, crossing the street. Steeling myself, I stepped through, closing the door behind me. As my hand let go of the handle, the air quivered. I turned to see that the door had vanished into thin air. I swallowed my fear as shivers went down my spine, then began to find my bearings.

I was definitely back home, on Jefferson Street. That meant I was only two blocks from my father's house. Forcing myself forward, I took one step after another. _Come on, you have to do this,_ I told myself. Everything felt so different here after being in the 18th century for so long. Nothing had changed though – it was still the same, dirty town I had been trying to escape from.

My heart clenched as I approached the Victorian house, still standing in all its grandeur. My parents hadn't been poor, they just hadn't spent any money on me. As I climbed the stone steps, I began to think I really was crazy to be doing this. I was trembling all over, trying to pull myself together. _Really, Fiona, considering you bested a British naval captain-turned Commodore who was insanely full of himself, you should be able to handle this!_ I thought. Stiffening my resolve, I rang the door bell. I would not let him beat me again.

Lights came on in the hallway, and the front door swung open, revealing my father, still in his suit. We stared at each other for a few minutes. He seemed to be trying to register in his mind that I was actually standing there in front of him. Then his face flushed, and his vice-like grip clenched my arm and I was being dragged into the study. The door slammed behind us.

"Bitch! How dare you come back to me after all the trouble I went through to try and find you!" he screamed, shoving me onto the couch. I struggled to get the backpack off.

"Dad, wait a minute, let me say…." I began, holding up a hand.

"No excuses, you hear me?" He grabbed my wrist, and I thought it might just break if he twisted any harder. Then I slapped him, hard.

"Let go of me," I growled. He stood there stunned, face going white. I pried his hand off my wrist. "I came to get my inheritance," I stated flatly, not knowing another way to put it. "If you don't give me what's rightfully mine, I'll take you and mom to court and sue you not only for the inheritance, but also for child abuse."

"You wouldn't dare destroy my reputation!" he spat impetuously.

"Watch me." I moved for the phone. "I'll call the police right now. I'm sure they'd be glad to know how nicely you reacted to my coming home." I didn't see the slap until it had hit me full across the face and come back on the other side. I reeled back, head spinning as my cheeks stung with pain. What a fool I had been to think he would have allowed me to call the cops.

"Where the hell have you been?" he shouted in my face, gracing me with another back-handed slap.

"I'm not telling you," I said defiantly.

"Like hell you ain't," he said, shoving me against the couch. "Why are you talking like you're some Englishwoman?"

"None of your business!" I was asking for it. "I want you out of my life, John Amherst! You and mom and all the shit you've put on me, gone! Give me what's mine and I'll leave, never come back! Please!" I fell to my knees, begging, tears coming. "This is all I want, and I'll never bother you again, I promise."

"Maybe a good beating will teach you to talk," he breathed in anger, pulling me up. I struggled, kicking, biting, whatever I could think of, but he pinned my arms behind me, pressing my face to the couch, and tied my arms and legs with something. The next thing I remember is the stinging lashes falling onto my back, the slap of the leather.

I was in the basement, the musty smell of rust invading my senses. Licking my lips, I tasted blood. Opening my eyes, I waited until my vision cleared to look around. My backpack sat at my feet, open, things strewn around. I panicked, thinking my father might have found the pistol I had so carefully hidden in my jacket's padding, along with the powder and shots. Struggling up, pain tingling through my back and face, I managed to free myself from my bonds and search through the jacket. It was all still there. Sighing with relief, I checked to make sure it was loaded, then, packing the rest of my things, went over to the doors that opened out into the back yard. A window showed that it was still night. Cocking the pistol and pointing it at the lock, I almost pulled the trigger when I saw another window, bigger. I could fit through it. Stumbling over, I found it to be unlocked. I shoved my things through, and struggled out after them into the bushes. I hefted my things onto my back, stowed the pistol and ran for the center of town and the police station.

The police station was quiet as I walked in. A female cop was on duty at the front desk, and I hesitantly approached. As she looked up, her eyes widened.

"I'd like to report child abuse," I said shakily, in a whisper. "It's been going on since I was 7. I just came home to get my inheritance because I'm getting married and…and…" I wanted to blurt out my whole story, but my voice caught as tears began to fall. She gently guided me over to a chair. I touched my face, felt a bruise, a swollen jaw, and a few cuts.

"Just sit tight here, let me go get the chief," she said, moving slowly. I nodded.

"Can I use the phone?" I requested, wiping away tears. She nodded, pointing behind the desk. I picked it up, dialed my uncle's number, and waited for him to pick up.

"Hello?" came a sleepy voice from the other end.

"Uncle Henry?" I choked.

"Fiona?" he said, sounding much more awake. "Where are you?"

"I'm at the police station, at home. Dad beat me and I managed to get out of the basement."

"Where have you been?"

"It's a long story." I sniffed, holding back tears. "Listen, I really need you to come up here, now, ok?"

"Yeah, sure, just stay at the station, I'll be up in a few hours." The line clicked, and I sat back down. After a few moments, the chief appeared, followed by the woman.

"This is her, sir. She is the one, isn't she?" said the woman.

"Fiona Fitzgerald?" the chief asked, sitting down beside me.

"Yes, sir, that's me."

"What happened?"

"I came home, to get my inheritance from my father, because I'm getting married, but he beat me. He doesn't know I'm getting married, but he's been beating me since I was 7. All I want is my inheritance so I can go live my own life, sir, really." I didn't know why I was telling him all this, but I felt I needed to.

"Why didn't you come forward before about your father's beating you?"

"I couldn't get away from him." I clenched and unclenched my hands, staring at the linoleum floor.

"Can anyone prove that he's been beating you?"

"My uncle can, and my mom can. She helped incite the beatings. My uncle's on his way from Virginia Beach."

"Is that who you called?" asked the woman. I nodded.

"Listen, let's get you cleaned up. We'll let you stay here tonight, file the paperwork before morning, and get everything straightened away. What about your fiancée?" the chief asked. "You wanna call him?"

"I don't know his number. He doesn't live here." I did desperately wish that Lawrence were here now, though. The chief helped me up, and the woman took me to a back room where she did her best to clean the wounds. I spent a restless night on the cot, and when I awoke a few hours later, the woman said I had been calling "Lawrence!" the whole time.

My uncle strode into the chief's office in full uniform, scowling. When he saw me, his expression softened as he gently took me in his arms. Then he turned to the chief.

"Whatever evidence you need, you can always ask me," he said, glaring at the blue uniform. "That man has beaten her for years, and her mother has come close to it. Had I not been threatened with a gun I would have stepped in before now."

"Amherst threatened you?" said the chief.

"Yes, and Fiona. Chief, arrest him."

"Well, your testimony so far coincides with that of Fiona's, but her mother refuses to talk. And her father says it never happened." My uncle turned crimson with rage. He showed the Chief my face.

"It never happened, huh?" he said. "Take a look at her face. Does that suggest that the beating never took place?" The chief shrugged. "We'll take them to court. Come on, Fiona, you're coming with me. We'll be at the Monarch Hotel, if you need us."

"Now wait a minute, we aren't finished."

"Yes, we are, sir!" My uncle and I marched out, his arm protectively around me. "We're taking them to court," he said as we climbed into his car. "I know a good lawyer who will make sure we win." I only hoped he was right.

We reached the hotel, and upon arriving in our room, I fell onto the bed, curling up and trying to ignore the pain I was in. My uncle sat down next to me, rubbing my shoulder.

"You're getting married?" he asked. I nodded. "To whom?"

"An Englishman. I found a time portal or something when I was on the train that threw me into 1765, Port Royal, in the Caribbean. I met a naval captain, and it just kind of happened." I showed him the ring.

"I was hoping you'd find that portal – it can take you anywhere," he said, making me sit up in surprise.

"You knew about it?"

"It was a navy secret. No one else knows about it. The Caribbean, huh?" I nodded. "1765 – that must have been interesting."

"I liked it. I miss it and Lawrence a lot."

"Is that your fiancée?"

"Yes, Lawrence Norrington. He's Commodore now. He didn't want me to go, almost forbid me. He gave me a pistol to take with me for my protection. It and the extra bullets and powder are in my jacket." He found them, studying them for a few moments.

"If I could get someone to go get him, would that make you happy?" I nodded, smiling weakly.

"Don't count on him being very available, though." He laughed, understanding, and then made a few phone calls. I drifted off to sleep, wondering if we would indeed win a court case against my parents.


	18. Will You Come?

(Norrington's POV, H.M.S. _Dauntless_)

_Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away  
Now it looks as though they're here to stay  
Oh, I believe in yesterday. _

Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be,  
There's a shadow hanging over me.  
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.

Why she had to go I don't know she wouldn't say.  
I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday.

Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play.  
Now I need a place to hide away.  
Oh, I believe in yesterday.

_"Yesterday," Paul McCartney and the Beatles_

I stood on the quarter deck, staring out to sea, watching the waves roll up against the ship's hull. In my pocket rested Fiona's last letter, and it was a comfort just to have there.

"Commodore, there's smoke comin' from an island. Should we investigate?" said the lieutenant, coming up the stairs. We were off in search of Elizabeth, who had been kidnapped the night Fiona had left. It had been almost a month now.

"Yes, it could be her," I said. "Make for the island, and inform Governor Swann."

"Yes, sir!" The helmsman received his orders, and the anchor was soon down, a boat rowing to shore.

"We cannot go and get him! It is out of the question!" Governor Swann persisted, trying to make Elizabeth understand. "His fate is out of our hands – there is nothing we can do." Elizabeth glared at him, then me.

"Commodore, please, do this for me. I love Will, you know that," she begged. I remained silent, swallowing as Governor Swann wheeled, face questioning and stunned. Lifting my chin, I said stiffly,

"I am in agreement with Governor Swann. Mr. Turner chose to take the path he took, knowing there would no chance for him to come out alive, and that even if he did, he would probably be hung if he returned to Port Royal." Governor Swann nodded, turning back to Elizabeth.

"There, you see, the boy has no hope," he said.

"Sirs, if ye don't mind me sayin' so, ye could single-handedly take out the last threat of pirates if ye were ta go back and rescue Miss Swann's darling William," spoke up Sparrow. I grimaced, turning away slightly.

"Yes, Jack can show you where the island is, he knows where it is!" Elizabeth said, voice rising.

"Naoh, I didn' say that, luv."

"I know you know where it is," she growled. He raised his hands defensively.

"Commodore," Gillete appeared at my elbow. I inclined my head, stepping back. "There's a man in your cabin, who says he knows Miss Fitzgerald. He says he is her uncle." My heart leapt to my throat, and I nearly bolted to my cabin, restraining myself with a great deal of civility.

"We are not to be disturbed," I told Gillete, "unless it is a matter of great importance." I began to close the door behind me. "Oh, and have Sparrow tell the helmsman how to reach Isla de Muerta."

"Yes, sir." Gillete saluted and left. Shutting the door, I found myself facing a man in a blue uniform adorned with medals over his breast, holding a hat under his arm that had a gold front piece to it. He stuck out a hand.

"Commander Henry Amherst," he introduced himself. "Commodore Norrington, I presume?"

"Yes," I said, shaking his hand. "Please sit. Are you Fiona's uncle?"

"Yes, I am," he replied, sitting.

"How is she? When is she returning?" I asked, barely letting him finish. He held up a hand.

"She's fine, she's staying with me. We're in court right now, trying to get her inheritance from her parents as well as trying to make it so they are no longer her parents in the legal sense. I hope I'm clear?"

"Perfectly. When is she coming back?"

"It's hard to say. There is no telling how long the legal process will take, but it could take a few months." He shrugged.

"A few months!" I cried. "She's been gone almost a month! How long has she been in court?"

"Just about a month. She came to me for help after her father beat…." He stopped mid-sentence.

"You were saying?" I pushed, not wanting to hear what I thought, knew he was saying.

"Her father beat her again when she went home. She managed to get out and go to the local police, and called me from there. Don't worry, the police are watching both him and her mother." I sank back into my chair, thinking. I had warned Fiona about this, and now that it had happened, I wanted to be with her, but didn't know if I should leave the ship. "Fiona misses you, Commodore. She wants you, now, needs you now." I looked up at him, fingers arced under my chin.

"Did she tell you that?" I asked. "Tell me truthfully: does she want me with her?"

"Yes. I've known there was a time gap, and I volunteered to find you and bring you back if you were willing and available." His eyes didn't lie.

"Sir, you are a naval officer, so you understand that duty is very important to a commanding officer," I said slowly.

"You're saying you won't come," Amherst stated. I didn't reply, meeting his eyes. "Sir, sometimes those you love come before duty. I think your presence would help speed things along, actually."

"You have come at a bad time, I'm afraid. I'm in the middle of something at present, that cannot be let go of lightly." Then I took it back mentally – who gave a damn about Turner? I had given orders to sail for the Isla de Muerta. Fiona was infinitely more important that Turner, although the pirates…could wait. They were the undead, anyway, and Fiona's father could be dispatched of much more quickly than the undead. Besides, I needed Fiona back with me. I had missed talking to her, speaking things only she would understand. "One moment, sir." I rose, going to the door. "Forsythe!" Captain Forsythe came running up. "Captain, are you capable of taking this ship to the Isla de Muerta and dealing with the pirates there?"

"Yes, sir, of course, sir," he said, face remaining impassive but eyes showing a mix of confusion and excitement.

"Come in here a moment, Captain." He followed me. "Commander, how long will I need to be in this city of yours?"

"Just a day or two, then I can see you're safely delivered back to your ship."

"Fine. Captain Forsythe, you have command of the ship until I return. I hope I am right in trusting you to make the right decision concerning the pirates and Will Turner?"

"Yes, Commodore!" he said, giving a smart salute. I nodded towards the door, and he left quickly.

"All right, what next?" I asked. Amherst rose and opened the door that was supposed to lead into the tiny closet. Instead, I saw what appeared to be city streets and dozens of people.

"After you," he said, motioning through the door. Straightening and bracing myself, I stepped through the door, followed by Amherst. The place stank, and strange vehicles roared past me on paved streets. I was horrified by the condition of the city and the people – so dirty, worse than Port Royal. "From now on, you are a reenactor of American history," instructed Amherst, steering my down a path of some sort. "If people look at you odd, it's because people don't dress like you're dressed any more." I nodded, dumbfounded at my surroundings.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To the courthouse, of course." We soon came to a large building with columns. Walking up the steps, we entered and went into a room, which I immediately recognized as some form of courtroom. On the desk to the left of us sat a man and another figure who I recognized as Fiona. Amherst pushed me into a seat, and joined me.

"In light of this evidence, the court will adjourn for an hour," said the judge, banging his gavel. Everyone moved, and I pushed forward to the front of the room, finally reaching Fiona. Her eyes, dark sleep lines under them, widened as she saw me.

"Lawrence!" Despite myself, I could not help giving her a brief kiss and holding her tightly to me. She collapsed into my arms, buried her face in my chest, and I touched her hair. It felt so good to see her again. She smelled different, looked different, but she had been here for a month. A few people stared, but I was too focused on holding Fiona to care. As the courthouse emptied, Fiona and I sat on the first bench before the railing. A man who I could only assume was her father stopped in front of us, glaring at Fiona, then staring at me. I stared right back, menacingly, and he stalked out. As I cupped her cheek with my left hand, she turned her face into it with a sigh.

"A few months?" I said.

"For pity's sake, Lawrence," she sighed. There were tears on her eyelashes. "Do you know what the past month has been like for me?" Her lower lip and jaw quivered. "I must seem so self-centered right now. But you know what government courts are like." She slumped forward.

"Fiona?" Amherst appeared beside her, touching her shoulder. "You all right?" She nodded dumbly. He squeezed her shoulder. "I'll be back in an hour."

"All right."

We sat alone in the courtroom, silent. A clock ticked in the corner.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," Fiona whispered. Rising, she went to one of the tall windows, holding herself and staring outside. Rays of sunlight fell on her, highlighting her face, her hair, the contours of her body.

"You can call off the engagement, if you want," Fiona said. "I don't want to burden you." A spasm of guilt went through me. I went to her, standing right behind her and placing a firm hand on her shoulder.

"No, no one will call off the engagement. I've been somewhat selfish, too. At first I was wary of coming due to my need to perform my duty. But I came anyway – I know how much this means to you. I found it was more important for me to be here than on my ship. I can only stay a few days, but I shall help you in any way I can," I murmured in her ear.

"Will you?" I kissed her neck, something drastically uncharacteristic of me. A small sigh escaped her lips, and she relaxed onto my chest.

"I love you," I told her sincerely, wrapping her gently, but securely, in my arms.

Author's Note: This chapter has driven me nuts. Any suggestions for ways I can change it? I'm not too happy with Norrington's character, or the relationship between him and Fiona at this point. Maybe it's just me. What do my readers think, I wonder?


	19. One Trial and Many Assurances

**(Fiona's POV)**

**A few hours later**

We had won – I was free of them forever, my inheritance claimed and to be given to me within the week. It had been easier than I thought, but I didn't care, as long as it was over. The fact that Lawrence had come was a relief, and I owed him a great deal. He had been nearly livid a few times, staring in a rage at my father, but managed to keep his seat and remain calm. My whole body was still tense, and as we walked out onto the streets, I felt the need to return to the pleasant streets of Port Royal.

I stood between Uncle Henry and Lawrence, watching my father drive off, my mother following him in her black jaguar.

"Let's go to the hotel," said Uncle Henry flatly. "I'll get another room." I leaned against Lawrence, who put his arm around my shoulders. We walked in silence back to the Monarch, and Lawrence and I went back to the room my uncle and I had been staying in. I locked myself in the bathroom and took a much needed shower. Stepping out into the room in a bath robe, I found Lawrence sitting at the desk, wearing only his shirt and pants. The white wig was off, revealing him to have a head full of deep brown hair. He was staring at some blank paper, trying to figure out how to work the pen, and glanced up as I came in. We both hesitated, eyeing each other. I was rethinking why I hadn't brought my pjs into the bathroom with me to change. Then, holding out his hand, Lawrence indicated I should come to him. Stepping over, I took his hand, and he pulled me onto his lap. I was surprised, but began to run my fingers through his short hair.

"What is it?" I asked softly. He shook his head with a sigh. "I shouldn't have asked you to come, not when you have so much other stuff to do. I'm sorry."

"Don't regret asking me," he said, lifting his face. "I left everything in one of my captain's very capable hands, and I'll be going back tomorrow anyway, so I'm not worried."

I stroked his face. "You're too good to be my future husband," I told him. "I'm too much trouble."

"You obviously haven't met many pirates," he sighed. "And I want to marry you. Don't worry so much." He paused for a moment. "Fiona, could you come back with me tomorrow? Just sign the papers, leave, and have your uncle send everything?"

"Yes. Is that what you would like?" He nuzzled my neck.

"Yes, I would like that very much."

"All right, I'll come." I couldn't suppress the heavy yawn rising in my chest, and I covered my mouth. "Sorry. Long day." He smiled into my neck, breath warm and tickling. I sidled out of his grasp, went to the bathroom to change and brush my teeth. When I went back into the room, I threw the big pillows onto the floor with the heavy dressy blankets, and curled up under the sheets and single blanket that would be warm enough. Lawrence came and sat on the bed beside me, putting his arm over me.

"'Night, Lawrence," I yawned.

"Goodnight, Fiona," he replied, gently kissing my temple and stroking my head. I turned the lights off, and I heard him climbing into the other bed. _Still keeping his reputation up and running,_ I giggled inwardly. Slipping out of my bed, I lifted the blankets and curled up next to him. His whole body tensed, and I could feel his heart hammering in his chest.

"It's all right, no one's going to see us, promise," I assured, putting my arm over his chest. He loosened up as I massaged through his shirt. Kissing his shoulder, I put my head on the pillow, head against his shoulder with my hand on it. His breathing became even, slowing as he dropped to sleep.

_My bonnie lies over the ocean,_

_My bonnie lies over the sea,_

_My bonnie lies over the ocean,_

_Oh bring back my bonnie to me._

_Bring back bring back _

_O bring back my bonnie to me, to me._

_Bring back, bring back,_

_Oh bring back my bonnie to me._

_Rap rap rap. Rap rap rap._

I stirred, the knocking waking me. I struggled to open my heavy eyelids, my mind fuzzy with sleep. Lawrence had his arm locked securely around my waist, leg draped over my legs. We lay on our sides, I realized, and I smelled the sea and the hotel on his chest and shirt.

"Mmm," I gurgled, trying to free myself. He grunted, only pulling me closer.

"Not yet, few more hours 'til cast off," he sighed in a still 75 asleep voice.

"We're still in the hotel. Someone's here," I pushed a tiny bit harder. He jumped out of bed like a jack rabbit out of a hole, stumbling around in a sleepy daze, tripping over sheets and chairs. He nearly dragged me with him, and I woke up in a hurry due to my surprise. Grabbing the sheets, I yanked, pulling him onto the floor. "It's all right, just stay here."

"Next time make sure I'm awake before informing me that there's someone at the door of our room!" he hissed, massaging a stubbed toe. "I would like to keep my reputation intact."

"Yes, sir." I rose, pulling on a robe, and went to the door. My uncle stood outside, carrying a tray of breakfast foods. "Angel," I said, taking it from him.

"Good morning to you, too," he grinned.

"Can you come back in, like, an hour and a half with the legal stuff?" I asked sleepily. "You woke us up."

"Oh, sorry. Yes, I'll go hunt down your lawyer. Be back later!" He touched his hat and left. The door slammed behind me as I carried the tray to the bed, where Lawrence had relocated himself and was dozing. A smile of contentment twitched on the edge of my mouth, and I couldn't help but love him – he seemed so vulnerable, lying there, out of uniform. Setting the tray on the desk, I brought over a cup of coffee and wafted the smell towards his nose. Twitching, brow furrowing, he blinked, then coughed as he groggily strained to see the coffee cup.

"Breakfast?" I asked. "I thought you were anxious to leave."

"I am, but I'm exhausted," he replied, licking his lips. "Being Commodore isn't easy, especially when you're dealing with runaway daughters and renegade pirates." I snickered.

"Let me guess…."

"I'll let you guess, but you probably already know." He slurped down the coffee, wincing and nearly spitting it back out because it was so hot.

"Poor Lawrence," I sympathized. I slid behind him, massaging his shoulders. That didn't last long, as he rolled his head, trying to loosen his neck, then lay back on me.

"When do you want to get back?" I asked. "My uncle will be here in a little over an hour with the legal papers, and he can show us a way back."

"Then let's be ready to leave when he gets here," Lawrence replied, now seemingly fine with being intimate. He ran his fingers along my thigh, then ran his whole hand up and down it, sending shivers up my spine. He was a bit heavy, but I didn't care. Thank goodness I had shaved the night before. "Will he be able to put us wherever we like in Port Royal, even on a ship?"

"Yes – he knows the time portal business like he invented it. Why?"

"I have some business to complete on the _Dauntless_ that is unavoidable."

"Concerning the runaway daughters and renegade pirates?"

"Yes, unfortunately. I'd rather forget the whole business and let someone else deal with it for once, but it is my duty to keep the Governor's daughter safe and kill as many pirates as possible."

"So it _was_ Elizabeth who ran off."

"Captured, actually. Pirates attacked Port Royal the night you left – the _Black Pearl_, run by the damned, the undead. Turner freed Sparrow the next day after I told him we couldn't do anything rash, and they stole the _Interceptor_, which I am afraid is at the bottom of the ocean now. I'm not sure what happened to them, but when your uncle came and summoned me, we had just found Elizabeth and Sparrow on a tiny island not a mile in length, burning rum and palm trees to make a smoke signal." I burst into laughter. Lawrence partially turned, gazing at me questioningly. I covered my mouth, shaking with silent laughter.

"Elizabeth…Sparrow…island…rum," I choked through my laughter tears rolling down my cheeks. He glared, eyes twinkling.

"Really, you are impossible," he said.

"I'm sorry, love," I apologized. "It's just, the picture of the two of them together on an island trying to escape is quite amusing. And I don't think Elizabeth would have allowed him to touch her – she's not that bad." He grasped my arms.

"I know. She can be a real annoyance sometimes, but her intentions are good."

"Yes, I know." I pushed him off me and began to dress. I was done long before he was, so I had to help him button and clip and make sure his wig was put on just right.

"Do I look all right?" he asked, concerned.

"You look fine, just like any Commodore should," I assured for the umpteenth time, brushing the wrinkles out of his jacket. Scooping up his hat, I set it firmly on his head. "There, done. You're as handsome as ever. I'm surprised that every single woman and girl in Port Royal isn't swooning over you." He snorted, then chuckled, kissing my cheek.

A knock announced my uncle.  
"Here are the papers," he said, stepping through the door. "You need to read them, but I read them for you and everything is in order, I promise. I double checked on the way back from the office." I quickly signed, speed reading though them.

"Uncle," I said, handing the papers back, "Commodore Norrington and I would like to rejoin the _Dauntless_ today at the soonest possible time. Can you take us to a portal and drop us on the ship, please, and just send my things through when everything's ready?"

"If you'd like, yes, I can."

"Yes, we would like. Lead on to the portal." And off we went to better and brighter things. Hopefully.

_Last night as I lay on my pillow_

_Last night as I lay on my bed_

_Last night as I lay on my pillow_

_I dreamed that my bonnie was dead_

_Bring back bring back_

_O bring back my bonnie to me to me_

_Bring back bring back_

_O bring back my bonnie to me._

Lyrics a Scottish folk song, from 


	20. Unexpected Events

(Fiona's POV)

_You can make me free  
You can make me smile  
You can make me be  
Like a little child_

_You can melt the ice that chills my body  
You can dry my every tear  
You make the lonely hours disappear_

The deck was as silent as the night surrounding the ship. The moon shone down brightly, adding to the eerie atmosphere. The officers weren't even talking. The island, Isla de Muerta, stood as a black figure in the night, creepy in the moonlight. I sat under the stairs leading up to the quarterdeck, gazing between the slats at the redcoats standing silently. Lawrence had left with several boatloads of men to the island in order to surprise the undead pirates at the suggestion of Sparrow. Elizabeth and I tried to dissuade him, but to no avail. He couldn't resist the opportunity.

"If they can't bloody well die, why try and surprise them?" I muttered darkly.

"Psst, Fiona." I looked to my right and saw Elizabeth beckoning me into the Captain's Cabin. Going in, I found a window open and the bed sheets tied together out the window. She was in a redcoats uniform minus the accoutrements, just white pants, white shirt and red coat.

"What?" I asked, closing the door behind me.

"Come help me save Will. Kill the pirates before they kill him. We'll have to go to the _Pearl_ first, of course, but then with the crew we'll go kill Barbossa and his crew." I raised my eyebrow skeptically, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Yeah, and what if the _Pearl_'s crew isn't interested in going to fight Barbossa's crew? They've got their ship, that's all they want."

"Will you come or not?" she glared.

"Yeah, why not, it could be fun." Inwardly I grimaced. I followed her out the window and down to the tiny boat. Grabbing the oars, I began rowing towards the _Black Pearl_, where we did succeed in rescuing the crew, but not enlisting their help. And so we kept rowing to the island. Mooring the boat at one of the entrances, we crept along the rocks to the inner cavern, where the treasure shone like the sun in the torchlight. Our jaws dropped with surprise as we saw Will and Sparrow fighting Barbossa and three crew members. But the rest of the crew was gone. We looked at each other, then back at the fighting. With a yell Elizabeth leapt forward, plunging into the tiny fight. I held back, trying to figure it all out. Where was the large majority of Barbossa's crew? Had the curse not been lifted, as Sparrow said it would be? My heart clenched with realization.

"Shit," I muttered, wheeling and lurching for the boat. Rowing madly, I soon encountered Lawrence and his men. A look of shock registered on his face as I pulled the boat up beside his. "The _Pearl_'s crew…they aren't in the cavern. Just Barbossa, Sparrow, Will…couple crew people, only three. My guess is as good as yours – they're headed for the _Dauntless_." I leaned forward, gasping for breath.

"Commodore, look," said one of the men, pointing. We all turned to see a boat being rowed by what appeared to be two women.

"Red flag, major red flag," I said. "They shouldn't be here. I mean, unless Barbossa likes having prostitutes at his killings of victims or enjoys dressing his crew in dresses, they shouldn't be here. They're a decoy."

"I think she's right, Commodore," said a man behind him.

"Back to the _Dauntless_," called out Lawrence after a moment thinking, seeing my reasoning. Grabbing the oars, I began rowing towards the shore, letting the others get ahead of me. A few men hopped into the boat with me, one taking over the oars with a smile. As we came closer, fighting could be heard and the flashes of guns. Then the cannons began to fire, the shells landing in the water around us. I flinched as each one came closer. A shriek echoed, arcing down, and blasted through the front part of the boat. I felt myself flying through the air, the air hot from the blast and splinters cutting my skin. I was under water for a few moments, grasping for something solid. I was scared, but regained the surface and my wits, treading water. Apparently only one of the men had survived, and he was wounded. Swimming to him, I put his arm over my shoulders, holding him up and treading water.

"Don't mind me, miss, I'm done for," he coughed.

"Bullshit," I said, moving towards the ship. Reaching the anchor's large rope, I grasped it. "Take a hold on it, pull yourself up on it." I helped him onto it. "Now, pretend like you're dead, but just…don't die. I'll be back for you soon." He nodded weakly. Swimming for one of the boats, I clambered into it and rowed it back, dragging him into it and then rowed it up next to the rudder under the overhang from the Captain's Cabin. Ripping open his shirt, I saw blood and splinters in his side. He hadn't been hurt badly. I tried to staunch the blood, listening to the screams and fighting above. He groaned in pain each time I applied pressure. Tying the boat to the rudder, I told him to keep pressure on the wound. I then reused the sheet rope to climb back up to the Cabin. As I slipped through the window, I encountered Swann, who was scared out of his wits.

"Miss Fitzgerald," he gasped. "What….? Why are you all wet?"

"I'll explain later," I said. The desk he was leaning on jerked a foot over, and I glanced at it warily. "I won't ask." Heading for the door, I grabbed the spare pistol on the desk and a sword off the wall before hurling myself out into the fight. I met a pirate square on. He was my height, with a mean look, but that's about all I could see since he was a skeleton. We spared for a moment before I shoved him into the sword of another officer. I just kept fighting, not knowing what propelled me forward. They wouldn't die. They just got back up, these skeletons draped in accoutrements. In the frenzy I barely noticed one coming at me with a yell. Whirling to block the attack, I felt something hit my side with the impact of a baseball being thrown at 90 miles an hour. I staggered back, a hot pain searing through my side. Everything slowed down. It was an odd feeling, being shot. I ran back into the stairs, tripping back onto them as they jabbed into my back and I remained lying there. Putting a hand on my side, I felt warm liquid seeping through my t-shirt. My fingers in the moonlight had blood on them, pain going through my side like shards of glass. I could hear myself breathing, hoarsely, heavily, each breath painful. The fighting sounded very distant. Raising myself I stumbled around and into the cabin, collapsing on the floor as the door shut. The pain was overwhelming. Faintly I heard Swann talking over me, then a chair being moved. Pressure was being applied to my side, water being poured into my mouth which I coughed back up. A pillow was shoved under my head. Opening my eyes, I saw Swann kneeling over me.

"Can you hear me?" he said. I nodded weakly. It looked as though he was making to say something else when he cocked his head, listening. He glanced back at me. "The fighting, it's over." I couldn't reply. "I'll…I'll be back in a moment." He rose and I heard the door close. Cheering echoed into the cabin, then abruptly stopped as the cabin door slammed, glass breaking.

"Fiona!" Lawrence was kneeling over me now. "Oh God," he choked, his hand enclosing my bloody one. "Gillete!" he roared. The man appeared, staring at me. "Get the surgeon." Gillete didn't move. "Get the surgeon, dammit!" Lawrence practically screamed, and Gillete moved.

"There's an officer," I said weakly.

"Hush, don't talk," Lawrence said, his voice shaking.

"He's in a boat tied to the rudder. He's wounded," I gasped.

"See to it, Governor," said Lawrence, keeping his eyes on me. A few tears fell from his eyes. Clasping my hand, he kissed my fingers. "Stay with me, Fiona, stay with me," he whimpered. I squeezed his hand weakly. My vision began to blur.

**(Norrington's POV switch)**

I tasted the blood on her fingers, my heart and stomach flipping and jolting as I saw her pale face. She was dying, and she didn't know how much I truly loved her in a world where she had never felt love. But I wouldn't allow it. Not this time. Death had played too large a factor in my life and I was not about to let it win over me now.

"Lawrence," she whispered, almost inaudibly. I caressed her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Yes, love," I replied. "Just a few more minutes." I turned, angry. "Where's the bloody damn surgeon!" Just then he burst through the door, carrying his medical kit, his helper a few paces behind loaded with instruments. He appeared surprised, but recovered under my glare.

"Get her onto the table," he said. I shoved everything off, gently lifting her in my arms and putting her on the desk. "Commodore, I'm going to have to ask you to leave." I stared at him in horror. "Sir, unless you know anything about surgery, I suggest you leave. I believe you have a crew of pirates that need taking care of, and your captain and lieutenant don't seem very capable of handling the situation." I ground my teeth, wanting to hit the man for his impudence. Instead, I walked over to Fiona's other side. She was still breathing.

"Fiona," I said, stroking her sweaty brow. Her eyes fluttered open, and she swallowed. "I'm going to let the surgeon perform on you now, he's very capable. I'll be here when you wake up." It pained me to leave her, but I had to. Her eyes closed as I left her side and went out to deal with the remains of Barbossa's crew.

My throat was tight. My stomach was churning. I could barely concentrate. _Fiona,_ I thought, as I continually glanced back towards the cabin and the shadowy form of the surgeon. Would she survive?

_Don't you know my only real moments  
Are the ones I spend with you  
How I long to drink some wine again with you_

_And if I must wait a lonely lifetime  
Until I am with you, my love  
I will wait but you'll be what I'm dreamin' of_

Lyrics by Billy Joel, "You Can Make Me Free"

http/www.lyrics.jp/lyrics/B004900010069.asp


	21. Will She Live?

**A few hours later**

**(Norrington's POV)**

I felt sick. The remainders of Barbossa's crew were locked in the hold as we headed back to Port Royal. The surgeon had been in the cabin all night, and still no word. I had eaten or drunk anything out of worry, not even the sea being its usual comforting self.

The surgeon pulled himself up the stairs, bloody and tired. I moved forward quickly, eager and yet worried about Fiona's condition.

"How is she?" I asked impatiently. My hands were in fists, my jaw quivering.

"She's asleep, and she'll be fine," he replied. "She's incredibly lucky. The bullet went straight through, and didn't hit any vital organs. When we get to Port Royal I'll need to have a look at her again to make sure she's healing properly, and I'll check on her regularly during the trip back." I sighed, leaning on the railing and shutting my eyes, finally allowing myself to breathe. "Why does she matter so much to you, sir, if you don't mind me asking?" he said after a moment.

"She's my fiancée," I confessed, not deigning to look at him. "And I do mind you asking."

"Ah. Well, if it's any comfort, she'll still be able to have plenty of children, Commodore, plenty indeed." I grimaced, my lower lip curling in disgust.

"Mr. Halstaff," I said stiffly, resuming my straight, upright position and impassive composure. The surgeon turned around as he began descending the stairs.

"Yes, Commodore?"

"As a respected surgeon in the service of His Majesty's navy, I would have thought you would know better than to make such an inappropriate statement as that one about children." He swallowed nervously. "Make sure it doesn't happen again. Understood?"

"Perfectly, Commodore." He had gotten my point – the next time, he would be thrown out and have to become a surgeon with his own practice. After he had disappeared below decks, I handed the ship over to the Captain and went down to the cabin, trying not to rush and appear overly concerned. I entered quietly. Fiona was sound asleep under the effects of the drugs, in a white gown someone had scrounged up, lying under the sheets and blanket on the small bed. Throwing my jacket and hat onto a chair, I sat beside her, leaning up against the backboard, watching her peacefully sleep. Gently, I stroked her face, feeling the tears welling in my throat yet again. I had been so lucky. I would give her anything and everything to make her happy. I knew she would do her best to be the best wife she knew how, do everything within her power to do whatever I desired. It was only fair that I do the same. She had been through so much in order to come out on the better side of things, and a few of those things had been for me, in a sense. She would make a good wife.


	22. A New Life

(Norrington's POV)

I slipped the ring on her finger, allowing myself to smile broadly with the sheer happiness I felt. Fiona smiled patiently, excitedly up at me, eyes sparkling. There was pride and love in her eyes, a faint hint of the healed wound in her side. She had recovered quickly, and despite the doctor's warning that she might be too weak to attend the ceremony and my own objections and pleas to wait a few more weeks to assure complete recovery, she wanted to go through with the marriage as soon as possible.

"I know my own limits, Lawrence Norrington," Fiona had told me firmly, raising a warning finger as she slowly packed her things in her room, taking care not to overexert herself. "Trust me, dearest Commodore." A familiar flash rippled through her eyes then, and did the same now at our wedding.

Fiona was ethereally beautiful in the white dress, tiny white flowers woven into her golden locks which were drawn up into braids around the crown of her head. I had wanted to cuddle her against me immediately, but resisted my emotions, knowing that proper conduct was essential until we were alone together in our home.

"I now pronounce you man and wife," the priest said. A roar went up from the crowd.

"They cheer for you, husband," she giggled proudly. "For finally getting your act together and getting married." I wanted to burst into laughter, but just shook my head before offering my arm and drawing her onto the dance floor. We waltzed, talked, played the perfect host and hostess, and even Gillete's best man speech was noteworthy. Elizabeth and Turner were there, their wedding only a few days after ours. They stood away from the crowd, and neither Fiona nor I objected. We had made a point of distancing ourselves from them.

As the sun slipped down onto the horizon, making a golden road across the water, Fiona and I slipped away onto one of the side streets. I drew her close to me, being gentle.

"Turn here," she murmured, and as I glanced questioningly at her we turned left, going down a street that opened out onto a cliff, the houses set back far enough from the edge to provide for comfort. The view over the bay was brilliant. We stood silently, watching.

"I wanted to see it before we go home," Fiona explained. "I found this place the day you didn't show up to give me a tour of the docks." She grinned up at me teasingly.

"That was out of my control," I defended. " I have a duty to attend to." She laughed lightly, wrapping her arms around me.

"Come, my dear, you shall be able to see both sunrise and sunset from our bedroom," I told her, drawing her away from the promontory and back towards town.

"Our bedroom," she repeated in a contented murmur. Nestling into my embrace, we walked back, and I guided her towards my residence that was now hers as well.

(Fiona's POV)

I had found my new life to be more than I had ever hoped it could be, and soon settled into a pattern of daily life. Lawrence never failed in his attentions to me, nor I to him. We rarely ever saw the Turners, though we were invited to their wedding. I continued to work for Mrs. Archon, and the wound in my side healed quickly. Lawrence's constant worrying about it was a relief to be rid of. I felt that my life now had meaning, since I was now with someone I cared about exceedingly and who felt the same for me. After two months, I knew I could not be happier.

Nine Months Later (Norrington's POV)

A child's wail echoed out of the bedroom, and I leapt to my feet, storming in. I immediately went to the bed, where Fiona, slightly propped up by the pillows and completely limp, gave me a weary, content smile. Her face glistened with sweat, hair plastered over her temples and forehead. The midwife appeared on the other side with the child in a white blanket of sorts, screaming bloody murder. As Fiona took the child in her arms, gently cooing and humming, the wailing stopped. I crawled onto the bed next to her hesitantly, gazing down at the newborn, a grey-pink color.

"Lawrence, meet your son," Fiona sighed as she leaned back against me. I felt the air go back into my chest. I gazed in awe at the newborn. The infant's small face was red and wrinkled a bit, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open. He struggled, arms moving slowly and stiffly, and he let out a wail. Fiona put him up against her bare chest near her throat, and his tiny hands groped at the warm skin. She stroked his head, a wistful smile of weariness covering her face. The midwife dabbed the sweat away from Fiona's face with a cloth, and I took it from her, deciding to do it myself.

"His name shall be Thomas," I said.

"I was just thinking that myself. And shall dear Thomas have a middle name?"

"Oh, how about Edward Fitzgerald?"

"Thomas Edward Fitzgerald Norrington. Yes, that shall do quite nicely," she murmured in agreement. "Would you like to hold him?" Her blue-grey eyes came to mine. Unsurely, I reached forward, I took the baby, cradling his head and bottom before holding him in my arms. Fiona watched me intensely, carefully. Thomas didn't cry, but his eyes opened, staring up. I stroked his cheek, and he blinked a few times. A smile creased my face, and I touched his nose. It scrunched under my touch as he yawned. Laughing, I moved towards Fiona.

"Fiona, look at him," I said, then glanced at my wife. She was sound asleep, breathing shallow. I could only imagine how tired she was. As I stood in the room holding my child and slowly rocking him, I felt my heart swell with the satisfaction of having my life complete, wholly rounded out and rich. I was a blessed man.

_Fin_

_Author's Note_: All right, does this chapter lack in anything that you readers would like? And secondly, should there be some sort of sequel? Any suggestions? Yes or no?


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